Glamcult #142 with Marina Herlop

Above our heads, the gods are sprinkling us

Hoodie IGNASI CAUBET, pants ORIOL CLAVELL, shoes MIISTA, ring FILOZA

Entering MARINA HERLOP’s musical universe for the first time is like stepping onto trembling ground; each note rises and falls, pulling away the earth beneath your feet. The conservatory-trained Barcelona-based artist forges sonic landscapes that twist between classical piano compositions, South Indian Carnatic vocal instrumentations and off kilt electronic productions. Herlop’s practice revolves around a purely aesthetic quest: to let music circulate through her, achieving an ultimate state of idiosyncratic, yet intuitively perfect harmony. Her two latest projects, Pripyat and Nekkuja, released via cult experimental label PAN, are effervescent testaments to that devotion. From playing at Primavera to collaborating with Paloma Wool and gaining Björk as a fan, Herlop’s name is definitely here to stay  and the more time passes, the more we are absorbed. Her sound grows in the same patterns as the skinfolds on our palms, the veins of leaves, the fractures of rocks, following hidden laws that resonate in our bones yet elude explanation.

Good morning! How are you today?
I’m fine! I woke up very early to start working on the album. I like to use the time when everyone is asleep to get some work done. How are you?

I so get that but I operate at night, so my day just started, ha-ha. You just finished your tour, right?
Yeah, I finished the tour for the last two albums, Pripyat and Nekkuja, which lasted three years. It had been a long time.

That’s a lot to let go of. How do you feel?
I don’t think I’m fully aware of it, but I’m going to start feeling the withdrawal in about six months. For now, I’m good because I haven’t performed much this year, so it felt like a long descent. It was time to wrap it up and start making music again.

To go back a bit, could you share when your love for music was born?
It was born with me — we were born at the same time. I remember when I was a child, we had this keyboard at home with 50 demos recorded, and I used to listen to them over and over again. When I was a teenager, it became obvious and more compulsive, but beautifully passionate as well. I was just like a bee that goes to the honey.

Your music exists in such a perfectly calibrated balance between chaos and control. Is this blend of precision and unpredictability a conscious decision?
I have these two sides — on the one hand, I’m very meticulous, rational and perfectionistic. On the other hand, I am more intuitive, I like to break patterns and be subversive. There is a combination of something very organised and then something more wild. I think most connections and references we use are totally unconscious. One is not very aware, and doesn’t need to be aware, of what they do when they’re making music — the same  way when you use a word and someone asks you where you learnt it from, you don’t really know.

Skirt SOFÍA VALENCIA BARANDICA, shoes MIISTA, accessories FILOZA and VELARA

It feels like a very instinctive way of working. How is it manifested in your creative process?
The first stage is always very prosaic and mechanical — there’s not much poetics or spirituality. Acquiring new knowledge puts you in a state of deep focus, and you forget about your ego for a second. For me, that’s the transcendental part: music opens this portal to a dimension bigger than humans. Reaching that state is difficult and doesn’t happen all the time. I think that’s what you are aiming for in meditation, and it’s one of the main reasons I make music. It takes away the stress of your life and it gives you new stress. If you balance it right, you have the same amount of stress, ha-ha.

What aspects of music-making are the most stressful to you? I imagine there’s also a slight sense of intimidation involved in learning any new skill.
That’s true. For me, a creative process comes with engaging in tasks that are conducive to failure — it’s like finding myself in a forest I’ve never been to. Doing something new involves a great effort to your brain, speaking in rigid terms. It feels scary because the older we get, the more we like comfort. Exploring is exhausting. There’s also a paradox: I don’t want to go into the unknown because it’s uncomfortable, but I don’t like the easy way either, as it feels like cheating.

In a way, it’s also reflected in the listening experience. Hearing your music for the first time, it definitely feels like your brain is confronted with something unpredictable — and hence uncomfortable. You need a second to relax and surrender to the musical flow completely, and it soon feels very gratifying.
Thank you! To achieve that, you need to understand the expectations set by our current music culture. Then, you decide whether to follow them or break them. If you go for the latter, you have to introduce an element that is more pleasing than what the listener anticipates. You cannot break the expectation just for the sake of it. You are forced to try a lot of things, and most of them won’t work. It feels like you’re putting time in a pocket and that pocket has a hole. Still, those hours are strictly necessary.

In formally studying classical music, I imagine you were immersed in a world of structure and tradition. Did it feel restrictive at any point?
During the few years I was in the conservatory, I could spot some aspects that didn’t resonate with my approach, but I could also see a bunch of opportunities that I wanted to learn from. I think restriction has a negative connotation. To me, without restrictions you cannot make music. Absolute freedom equals chaos — you need a language and you need patterns in rhythm, harmony and timbre. And those are, per se, restrictions. I tend to become overwhelmed by freedom — so much so that sometimes I set those restrictions myself.

I see that. We often need some kind of structure to feel grounded, and it doesn’t have to diminish our creative expression.
Exactly. For example, when you interpret piano pieces by reading a score, you’re not just following orders, you’re also letting your creativity expand. The more someone knows how to play the piano, the more their interpretations are going to differ from the other. The more you try to disappear, the more it shows — just like in dance or gymnastics. “Your style” is not something that you should seek. It’s inevitable. I take piano classes to get those restrictions because I don’t need freedom. Freedom to what? I don’t feel like I’m expressing myself more if I only do what I want. Because to me, it’s not about doing what I want, it’s about doing what the music requires.

This reminds me of what you said earlier about your ego dissolving when you’re entirely focused on perfecting a skill. This ego death experience is such a beautiful aspect of art, both for its creator and viewer.
To me, when you make music, it’s not about your story. You are pursuing something that doesn’t exist yet, and you sort of generate it. You need to do the searching; you need to follow the orders…

There are technical restrictions and conceptual ones, too. I’ve always had a somewhat negative perception of traditional Western classical institutions, as I judged them to be too Eurocentric and rigid. But it’s so great to hear that now one can formally study classical music in its many embodiments, like the Carnatic tradition. It’s not just about mastering one technique; it’s about opening yourself to a rich diversity of approaches.
You can find “academic” rigour in South Indian music, in their singing techniques or the emphasis on rhythm. It’s incredibly accurate — much more than in Western music. At the end of the day, I think the purpose of all cultures may be similar deep down. I was in Indonesia not long ago, and I had the chance to see many gamelan players. The rhythmic precision they have is scary! The main thing of Western classical music is harmony. We go crazy with it. As a friend of mine says, in Europe, we are obsessed with notes. In South India, the focus might be on melody and rhythm. In other places, it might be just rhythm. But these elements are infinite in themselves already. You can find virtues in all cultures and all genres. I understand what you say about Western classical music, and I don’t disagree. For some time now, I’ve been trying to observe and learn what I can. I don’t intend to copy or appropriate — I don’t want to use the same patterns or tools — but if you study a technique enough, it will be a natural part of you that in some way will inform your practice.

It’s the respect and the love you put into a craft that is universal.
Exactly.

Top AELYERE, trousers JAVIER GUIJARRO, shoes GUCCI

Dress NIA DE FER, skirt and necklace, LAURA SORIANO CAPELL, shoes GIANMARCO LORENZI, hairclip EMMA ANAÏS, earrings ANDRÉS HERRERA

Speaking of universality, we also feel a strong connection between your music and nature. Is it something that you see for yourself, too?
Every time I have to make visual content, we go to natural spots just because it’s always the most beautiful locations. Funnily enough, I’m always home. I love nature, but I don’t find time to enjoy it properly. I agree that my music resonates better with nature, but I don’t really know why. The structure — whether in a song, movie or painting — and the way you arrange elements to achieve balance feels like something that already exists outside of us. Tonality, dominant, tonic, fifth degree and first degree… it doesn’t feel like we invented it. It feels like we follow something that has been in nature from immemorial times. And the music that will be made in a thousand years will be governed by the same structures.

This brings us to the music video for Miu… Seeing the cow give birth was so moving and evoked this feeling of natural cyclicity and timelessness. How did the idea arise?
I was living with two bunnies at that time, and we had to sterilise them. This put the thought of animals giving birth in my head. We initially wanted to record a horse, but then we were informed that horses really need their privacy. Cows are not so bothered. It was fun when it happened, but we had to wait over 60 hours at two different farms. I was dressed and wearing make-up for such a long time. We almost decided to scrap it, and then the moment just happened. We went through a lot of emotional stages, ha-ha.

The video also fits so beautifully with your visual aesthetic in general. How do you approach your visual identity as a musical artist?
You must have one. You’re always communicating a message through your visuals, so I prefer to take care of it. Some aspects of it I like more than others. For example, clothing and hairstyles are really fun to me. I spend hours on it. But videos… I’d rather not do it again, ha-ha. Same with album covers. It’s just music — it was never meant to have a cover to go with it. Even keeping up with social media… I never intended to do it, I just wanted to make music, and now I find myself being a content creator. 

…And doing all those interviews! On a final note, what can you tell us about your upcoming album?
I haven’t even started yet, and it’s already so full of ideas and projects. I have to ask myself, “Marina, how can you be so chaotic? You don’t even have one song!” I need to clean the mess of something that doesn’t even exist. It’s like writing a novel: you have to decide the characters, who they are, their setting. I want to be ambitious, so it will take time. I want to improve my vocals, piano technique, learn more Ableton tricks, and sound processing. I need new tools, new toys. Once I have that, it should flow.

The initial setup is always the most overwhelming, but we have all the faith in you.
I think I need to go crazy in the next few months, lose the plot a little bit. It’s going to be fun, a nightmare, the worst — and the best.

Hoodie BY MARIAN BEN, dress CHRISTINA SEEWALD, shoes PRADA, gloves GONZALES, bracelet ANDRÉS HERRERA, large ring EMMA ANAÏS, small rings VELARA

Words by  EVITA SHRESTHA

Photography and creative direction by ZOË LENA REBECCHI

Styling by MARA MANCINI

Hair and make-up by BETANIA ROMERO

Photography assistance by TINA SUN and WWJ

Styling assistance by SARA MIRAVETE