Industrial sounds meet nature and stillness where dreams become a landscape of raw emotions. Dream of Snakes does not delve into a universe; it creates a world, a visual scenario with the use of textures, ethereal voices, saturated drums, and field recordings. This record album reminds us why Lila Tirando a Violeta is a full grown artist and cannot be missed. In this interview, we discuss the symbolism of dreams, reading Ottessa Moshfegh, finding one’s place in the world, and David Cronenberg.
First of all, how did this album come about?
At the time I began working on this album, I was in a deeply introspective phase. I had recently moved to the south east of Ireland and was completely taken by the landscape, the stillness, the unpredictability of the weather, the overwhelming sense of presence that comes from being surrounded by such raw nature. I found myself spending almost every day hiking with my field recorders, just listening.
Since I wasn’t performing live very often during that period, I developed a strong internal need to make music that moved me, physically and emotionally. I wanted to create tracks that I could dance to alone in my room, or that could soundtrack my long walks around. It was about reconnecting to movement in a very personal way.
Since I wasn’t performing live very often during that period, I developed a strong internal need to make music that moved me, physically and emotionally. I wanted to create tracks that I could dance to alone in my room, or that could soundtrack my long walks around. It was about reconnecting to movement in a very personal way.
So the starting point is quite different from previous works of yours.
After releasing two concept albums in a row (Desire Path and Accela), I wanted to let go of that framework. This time, I didn’t want to start with a story. I wanted the sound to be the feeling, the story, the movement. To let intuition take the lead. During that period I began having recurring dreams about snakes. They weren’t frightening, they felt more like messages or symbols I didn’t yet know how to decode. So I started researching what snakes often represent in dream psychology, transformation, rebirth, hidden knowledge.
In that process, I stumbled back into a piece of my childhood: Sueño con serpientes, by the Cuban songwriter Silvio Rodríguez. It was a song my grandparents used to play often. Listening to it again as an adult was a powerful experience. The lyrics, so vivid and poetic, and the experimental textures woven into a folk framework, something about that tension really spoke to where I was musically. The album ended up being less about telling a linear story and more about evoking the in-between states: dreaming and waking, stillness and movement, solitude and connection.
In that process, I stumbled back into a piece of my childhood: Sueño con serpientes, by the Cuban songwriter Silvio Rodríguez. It was a song my grandparents used to play often. Listening to it again as an adult was a powerful experience. The lyrics, so vivid and poetic, and the experimental textures woven into a folk framework, something about that tension really spoke to where I was musically. The album ended up being less about telling a linear story and more about evoking the in-between states: dreaming and waking, stillness and movement, solitude and connection.
Who are the people you collaborated with on this album, and how did they happen?
Lighght and JQ are frequent collaborators and trusted friends. Both live nearby. I wanted this record to feel organic by working with people who were completely in sync with my vision. That’s how the process came together: I aimed to go back to basics, focusing on our jams and sessions with the primary goal of enjoying the creation of the music. There was a natural rhythm to how we worked, often starting from casual improvisations that gradually evolved into fully formed tracks. It felt refreshing to strip away the pressure and let the energy of the room dictate the direction of each piece.
As for SideProject, they reached out to me after my last album with Sin Maldita was released. They had enjoyed it a lot, which was a pleasant surprise since I’ve been a fan of their work for some time. From there, we began brainstorming ideas for a potential collaboration. What started as an exchange of references and textures quickly developed into a shared language. Even though we were working remotely, the connection felt immediate and intuitive. It was exciting to blend our different sonic worlds and see where that tension and harmony could take us creatively.
As for SideProject, they reached out to me after my last album with Sin Maldita was released. They had enjoyed it a lot, which was a pleasant surprise since I’ve been a fan of their work for some time. From there, we began brainstorming ideas for a potential collaboration. What started as an exchange of references and textures quickly developed into a shared language. Even though we were working remotely, the connection felt immediate and intuitive. It was exciting to blend our different sonic worlds and see where that tension and harmony could take us creatively.
You’ve also released the album on a different record label.
Unguarded is a record label owned by one of my closest friends, Sin Maldita, and Dounia. We had a joint vision for this release. I really love the work they’re doing with the label, therefore it was an easy decision to send it over to them.
“I wanted to craft bangers that would move bodies, push boundaries, and still feel raw and authentic.”
What about the remixes at the end of the album?
The remixes and additional producers, I’ve worked with them and been a fan of for a while: Imaabs, Pobvio, G3, Other Islands and Sueuga. So again, I would say this album was about fully embracing the creative process, working with dear friends and enjoying every moment of it, rather than getting caught up in a predefined concept. I wanted to craft bangers that would move bodies, push boundaries, and still feel raw and authentic, therefore these collaborators were the first that came to mind while doing so.
What were you listening to while making the album? There's a clear blend of reggaeton and field recordings throughout the record.
I don’t listen to a lot of contemporary music (at least not while I’m in the process of producing a record). It’s not because I don’t like it. There’s so much brilliant contemporary electronic music being made right now, and I deeply respect the scene, but more because I’ve learned that I’m very absorbent creatively. If I’m too tuned into what’s current, I find it harder to hear my own voice clearly.
When I do listen to music, it tends to be outside of time — folk, experimental archives, soundtracks, or older records from across Latin America, post punk and ambient music. To say some names: a lot of John Cale, Sylvia Meyer, Tim Buckley, Fad Gadget, Siouxie, Dean Blunt, Algebra Suicide, Darnauchans, Eno, Space Lady, Psychic TV, Cocteau Twins. I feel like those sonic references act more like echoes than blueprints. They don’t push me toward imitation, they open doors or something like that.
When I do listen to music, it tends to be outside of time — folk, experimental archives, soundtracks, or older records from across Latin America, post punk and ambient music. To say some names: a lot of John Cale, Sylvia Meyer, Tim Buckley, Fad Gadget, Siouxie, Dean Blunt, Algebra Suicide, Darnauchans, Eno, Space Lady, Psychic TV, Cocteau Twins. I feel like those sonic references act more like echoes than blueprints. They don’t push me toward imitation, they open doors or something like that.
Can you tell us a bit more about why Dream of Snakes? You can clearly feel this dreamlike state we enter and remain in throughout the album, but what does it mean to dream of snakes?
Dreams can tell you so much and yet so little about who you are. They feel like flickers of truth wrapped in abstraction, fragments of memory, emotion, fear, and desire that refuse to settle into anything linear or easily explained. In many ways, I see dreaming and sleeping as a kind of reversal of death. Not in the sense of resurrection, but as a surrender to the unknown, a soft descent into a liminal space where time dissolves and logic unravels.
I once read that dreaming brings us closer to the narrative structure or anti-structure of James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake, which deeply inspired my last album, Accela. That book, with its endless loops, puns, and contradictions, became a sort of map for understanding the fluidity of consciousness. The book constantly merges opposites, and I feel that same merging happens every time we dream. It’s like our minds create an internal language that mirrors the chaos of the world, but in a more symbolic, emotional way. This new project is also steeped in those ideas, but through a different lens.
I once read that dreaming brings us closer to the narrative structure or anti-structure of James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake, which deeply inspired my last album, Accela. That book, with its endless loops, puns, and contradictions, became a sort of map for understanding the fluidity of consciousness. The book constantly merges opposites, and I feel that same merging happens every time we dream. It’s like our minds create an internal language that mirrors the chaos of the world, but in a more symbolic, emotional way. This new project is also steeped in those ideas, but through a different lens.
You also mentioned a Cuban song of the same title.
One of the key references for me was the song Sueño con serpientes by Cuban songwriter Silvio Rodríguez. That track holds a deep poetic weight: it’s haunting, metaphorical, and political all at once. The image of dreaming with serpents evokes something ancient and mythic, a kind of internal reckoning with fear, cycles, and transformation. In my interpretation, both Finnegans Wake and Sueño con serpientes explore what it means to confront the self in states where the conscious mind no longer has full control, where we’re vulnerable to symbols, archetypes, and unresolved thoughts.
Besides these two, were there other non-musical influences? Perhaps some films?
Absolutely! So many. Non-musical influences are often a huge part of shaping the atmosphere of my albums. One of the most present on this particular release was David Cronenberg’s filmography, especially Videodrome. While recording this album, I happened to be rewatching his works and became obsessed with the idea of ‘The New Flesh’ — this merging of body and machine, reality and hallucination. So in the single track titled by the same name, I narrated some of the movie’s dialogue.
I think this movie doesn’t feel like speculative sci-fi anymore, it feels eerily prophetic. The way Cronenberg blurs the line between physical and psychological transformation really resonated with how I was thinking about sound, distortion, mutation, and the way textures can morph into each other until they’re almost indistinguishable.
I think this movie doesn’t feel like speculative sci-fi anymore, it feels eerily prophetic. The way Cronenberg blurs the line between physical and psychological transformation really resonated with how I was thinking about sound, distortion, mutation, and the way textures can morph into each other until they’re almost indistinguishable.
“I see dreaming and sleeping as a kind of reversal of death. Not in the sense of resurrection, but as a surrender to the unknown.”
The album takes us on a journey through a place anchored in dreams. Could this be seen as a contrast between your places of residence: the nature and calmness of Ireland and the concrete and techno of Berlin?
In the last decade I’ve moved around a lot. Maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of necessity, or maybe just because I’ve never felt fully anchored to one place. I spent most of my life in Uruguay, which still feels like the root of everything for me, culturally and emotionally. Now I’ve found a home in Ireland, and for the first time in a while, I feel like I want to stay put. Definitely, that contrast is something I’ve been thinking about a lot, which reflects in my music. How the places I’ve lived inevitably seep into the textures and the emotional tones of my records.
This place anchored in dreams is brought in by the water in the field recordings. What role would you say this element plays in the outcome of the songs?
The album is very much anchored in dreams, and water of course plays a huge role in that, both symbolically and literally, through the field recordings I captured. Water feels like a carrier of memory, of emotion, of transition. It’s always moving, always shape-shifting, much like my own relationship with place and identity.
Having spent long periods in cities like Berlin and Amsterdam, with their density, sharp angles, and concrete rhythms, and now living in South East Ireland, surrounded by vast open landscapes, mist, and that quiet that’s almost sacred, it’s impossible not to feel the tension between those extremes. So yes, I think the album reflects that contrast, not in a confrontational way, but in a way that allows both energies to coexist equally.
It’s a kind of merging between the hyper-constructed and the deeply organic. Between the intensity of city life and the quiet unraveling that comes when you step away from it. In that sense, the dream world of the album lives somewhere in between those geographies, in the liminal space where water meets concrete, where noise meets silence, and where movement finally gives way to stillness.
Having spent long periods in cities like Berlin and Amsterdam, with their density, sharp angles, and concrete rhythms, and now living in South East Ireland, surrounded by vast open landscapes, mist, and that quiet that’s almost sacred, it’s impossible not to feel the tension between those extremes. So yes, I think the album reflects that contrast, not in a confrontational way, but in a way that allows both energies to coexist equally.
It’s a kind of merging between the hyper-constructed and the deeply organic. Between the intensity of city life and the quiet unraveling that comes when you step away from it. In that sense, the dream world of the album lives somewhere in between those geographies, in the liminal space where water meets concrete, where noise meets silence, and where movement finally gives way to stillness.
What instruments did you use for the album? Hardware, software, analogue, recordings?
I used a pretty equal mixture of hardware and software. On the hardware side, I leaned heavily into field recording — my trusted Tascam DR models were essential for field recording. I also used hydrophones, which I attached to some magnet fishing gear to get underwater and metallic sounds. It was a bit of an experiment but gave me some beautifully eerie material to work with.
For synths and FX, I used the Alesis Air FX and Air Synth, which have this kind of unpredictable, gestural feel that I love. I also ran vocals and samples through a TC Helicon VoiceLive, which helped me create more processed, alien-like vocal layers. One of the newer pieces I brought into my setup was the Texturelab by Sonicware, which is a granular synth that became central to shaping the more fragmented, immersive textures on the record. On the software side, most of the album was recorded in Logic Pro X with a touch of Ableton. There were a lot of stems, layering, and sound design happening through plug-ins like Serum, Waves, and NI Battery.
For synths and FX, I used the Alesis Air FX and Air Synth, which have this kind of unpredictable, gestural feel that I love. I also ran vocals and samples through a TC Helicon VoiceLive, which helped me create more processed, alien-like vocal layers. One of the newer pieces I brought into my setup was the Texturelab by Sonicware, which is a granular synth that became central to shaping the more fragmented, immersive textures on the record. On the software side, most of the album was recorded in Logic Pro X with a touch of Ableton. There were a lot of stems, layering, and sound design happening through plug-ins like Serum, Waves, and NI Battery.
How does a song like Unworthy Praise come to life? What was the initial spark?
This track is like a middle ground between the direction I explored in my 2022 album, Desire Path, and the later work on Accela. I aimed to push my Latin influences and field recordings even further, experimenting with stretching sound, granular synths, and processing the percussion to the point where it blended seamlessly with the field recordings and sound design, making the two elements almost indistinguishable from each other.
I was really interested in how rhythm and texture could exist in the same sonic space, how a snare or hi-hat could morph into the sound of rustling leaves or distant traffic, and vice versa. It became less about building around a beat and more about sculpting a kind of living, breathing environment that moved in unpredictable ways. In a sense, it's like the track is constantly shifting focus between constructed rhythm and organic atmosphere.
I was really interested in how rhythm and texture could exist in the same sonic space, how a snare or hi-hat could morph into the sound of rustling leaves or distant traffic, and vice versa. It became less about building around a beat and more about sculpting a kind of living, breathing environment that moved in unpredictable ways. In a sense, it's like the track is constantly shifting focus between constructed rhythm and organic atmosphere.
The album cover contains many symbolic images, or so it seems to me. It reminds me a bit of Accela, your last record, in that sense. Who is the cover artist and?
The artwork was created by Dario Alva, a visionary Spanish artist whose work I’ve long admired and who has also done the cover for Accela and Accelarated out on Hyperdub. He’s also collaborated with some of my favourite artists and fashion houses, both mainstream and underground.
“The dream world of the album lives in the liminal space where water meets concrete, where noise meets silence, and where movement finally gives way to stillness.”
If you’d like to share, what’s hidden within this artwork?
This piece, like much of his practice, is rich with symbolism and layered meaning. It’s a sculpted 3D image inspired by my persona that feels like a still moment of deep contemplation, almost an ode to classic flamenco art and medieval devotional paintings, refracted through a surreal, digital lens. The textures evoke both oil painting and liquid code (a huge inspiration was holographic YuGiOh cards). At her core lies a visceral centrepiece: a tangled network of silver serpents and labyrinthine piping that winds through her (my) abdomen. I’d say it's a bit of a representation of inner complexity, intuition, digestion of memory, and emotional entanglement.
Inspired also by the song Sueño con serpientes, which speaks about concepts including digestion and snakes. It suggests a hidden machinery beneath the surface, a map of secret corridors and tangled thoughts. I always try my artworks to not only accompany the music but expand it, offering another dimension to the narrative I’m telling through sound.
Inspired also by the song Sueño con serpientes, which speaks about concepts including digestion and snakes. It suggests a hidden machinery beneath the surface, a map of secret corridors and tangled thoughts. I always try my artworks to not only accompany the music but expand it, offering another dimension to the narrative I’m telling through sound.
Is there a connection with the previous album in terms of artwork and concept? We see the figure holding a strange instrument that also contains some sort of portal. In Accela, there’s a more medieval-looking figure also holding a portal. Could this be part of a bigger concept, maybe a trilogy?
Yes, there’s definitely a connection between this cover and Accela’s, as well as with my earlier album artwork, both visually and conceptually. Dario has become an essential collaborator in shaping the visual language around my music. His ability to translate abstract, emotional, and sonic ideas into intricate, symbolic images is uncanny. We both share a love for surrealism, flamenco and medieval art, ceramics, anime and trading cards. We're both drawn to that hybrid space between classical iconography and pop culture references, filtered through a lens of digital distortion, a hybrid between digital and physical art. I think that shared language allows the visuals to feel like a natural extension of the sound world.
There’s definitely a larger arc forming here. I’ve been playing with the idea of myself as an avatar ever since my 2019 album Sentient. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a trilogy, but more of a visual identity, a kind of world-building. These records feel like parts of an evolving mythology or ongoing concept. Each one is a chapter in this continuous transformation — psychic, sonic, and symbolic. Where the artwork, hidden narratives, merch, and physical editions are just as important as the music itself. I think that visual continuity, through recurring figures, gestures, portals, and hidden messages, helps map out that journey in a way that feels cohesive across my discography, while still leaving space for mystery and interpretation on the part of the listener.
There’s definitely a larger arc forming here. I’ve been playing with the idea of myself as an avatar ever since my 2019 album Sentient. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a trilogy, but more of a visual identity, a kind of world-building. These records feel like parts of an evolving mythology or ongoing concept. Each one is a chapter in this continuous transformation — psychic, sonic, and symbolic. Where the artwork, hidden narratives, merch, and physical editions are just as important as the music itself. I think that visual continuity, through recurring figures, gestures, portals, and hidden messages, helps map out that journey in a way that feels cohesive across my discography, while still leaving space for mystery and interpretation on the part of the listener.
Rest & Relaxation strikes me as the most interesting track title, since what we hear is completely at odds with the name. Or perhaps it’s just another way of seeing things. Can you tell us a bit more about this?
Yes! While I was recording that track, I was completely immersed in My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh. I found it so gripping that I read it in just a day or two, which is very unlike me, since I usually like to take my time with books and let them breathe. But something about that novel just consumed me. The protagonist’s strange detachment, her yearning for erasure, and the idea of sleep as both escape and transformation really lingered in my head.
That energy restlessness masked as stillness, or vice versa, I think fed directly into the song. The title, Rest & Relaxation, started as a kind of ironic nod to the book, but over time, it began to feel more sincere in its contradiction. The track is chaotic, maybe even unsettling at points, and has so many layers of my vocals entangled narrating the several names of medication the character takes. So the title isn’t just a joke or a contrast, it’s also a different lens: rest doesn't always look calm, and relaxation doesn't always sound soft. Sometimes it’s loud, fractured, and deeply internal.
That energy restlessness masked as stillness, or vice versa, I think fed directly into the song. The title, Rest & Relaxation, started as a kind of ironic nod to the book, but over time, it began to feel more sincere in its contradiction. The track is chaotic, maybe even unsettling at points, and has so many layers of my vocals entangled narrating the several names of medication the character takes. So the title isn’t just a joke or a contrast, it’s also a different lens: rest doesn't always look calm, and relaxation doesn't always sound soft. Sometimes it’s loud, fractured, and deeply internal.
What can we expect from Lila this year?
Honestly, I never know what I’ll be doing next week (laughs). But lately, I’ve been exploring some new territory. I recently started working on music for films, which has been a totally fresh and exciting experience for me. I’ve contributed to the music library for Paramount Pictures and done a few scores here and there. It’s a different kind of storytelling, and I’m really enjoying the challenge.
I’m also hoping to tour this new record a bit and share it in a live AV context, which always brings a new dimension to the work. And of course, as always, I’m already brainstorming and sketching out ideas for the next album.
I’m also hoping to tour this new record a bit and share it in a live AV context, which always brings a new dimension to the work. And of course, as always, I’m already brainstorming and sketching out ideas for the next album.
