Throughout a quiet, warmly lit space, thousands of messages unfold—not just through voice but through gaze, posture, and presence. Sometimes the meaning lands even more softly than words. A plain, unmasked person speaks freely, with nothing standing between them and the world. All flavor comes from the soul, perhaps to guard a core grounded over many years. A 47-year career shapes an artist whose work still radiates the same passion, honesty, and innocence. “I am brave, almost fearless, driven by work and loved ones; difficulties don’t scare me”, she says. A pause follows, then a glance at the cover of Windows in My Soul (Virgin Music, 2023) and a shared, saying sigh. The image carries more weight than any sentence: the sixteenth album is so intimate that words fall short. With the melody in the background, every gesture gains depth.
Total: 12 songs that feel like twelve pieces of a heart. The collection begins by echoing the first 2,000 calls received during quarantine, offering comfort to those in need. The final track voices the heavy toll of war on society. The LP unfolds as a journey from polar opposites to a universal resonance, a meticulous cut that invites wide interpretation. “If my songs can move people, help them, and act, that would be wonderful. Yet what matters most is the act of communicating, of sharing with another person through music. I hope something meaningful follows”, remarks the translator who has not released unreleased material for five seasons. After Que corra el aire (2018, Warner Music), she ventured into her first live album, recorded at Plaza del Obradoiro in Santiago de Compostela, marking a milestone as a performer. Regardless of how quietly she speaks, she possesses the power to morph into pure rock on stage. The listener just needs to let herself feel it.
There is a question: what lies inside her heart beyond the chest? What follows is a candid glimpse into a complex, ever-evolving inner life, with flaws and worldviews laid bare. The instinct to reveal everything isn’t always the goal; harmony often comes from accepting limits and choosing what to share. The LP reflects multiple genres because the artist engages with diverse subjects.
Among those subjects is success. Previously, you admitted: Ascend, descend; everything seems to shrink to a hum. Has that clouded you at any point?
Never really. She began very young and has worked to stay connected with her surroundings. Even as she reaches peaks of popularity, she learns to pace herself. Praise comes from people who appreciate her, and that awareness keeps her grounded. She knows what matters are the songs, not the empty summaries of beauty. She values the craft above every trend.
Have you ever felt betrayed by others?
She recalls moments of underestimation within the genre, but she lets that slide. She tends to detach from attachments she doesn’t trust, staying focused on what she loves and remains stubborn about her path.
Do you identify with everything you’ve posted since the start?
Yes, she answers after long reflection. She puts in effort before sharing, insisting that the goal is to do well what she has invested so much into. Music is not merely a hobby; it is a daily necessity that fuels her capacity to create, interpret, compose, listen, and observe.
She entered the music scene during a turbulent transition. It was a challenging era, perhaps, but also a proving ground.
Her path crystalized the moment she realized singing carried more weight than experimentations with image. She did not shy away from bold choices or shrinking from tough questions about gender. Her role as a translator—interpreting meaning—outshines any superficial label. Whether the sound is alluring or clear, she uses it to express her perception of reality.
Did she feel pressure to defend evolving values in her work?
No pressure, but pride. She admires many women in music past, present, and likely future. Her mother impressed discipline and strength, and she hopes her experience can help others facing hardship. Even cancer’s shadow did not silence her; some found courage in her experiences. She doesn’t see herself as a champion—she simply keeps moving forward.
Her signature dark red lips—rebellion or personal mark?
She has worn the bold shade since adolescence, a personal choice she keeps for herself. It’s not about others’ opinions; her mouth is her instrument, a focal point she wants to emphasize.
Death questions revisit her work, twice in 2007 and 2010. Does that bother her?
No. It’s common for people to probe, but she resists dwelling on what she cannot fully know. What matters is relevance; questions about teams or trivial matters are unnecessary to her.
At 64, does she treat mental health with the same care as physical health?
Yes, she remains vigilant about negative thoughts, labeling them and choosing her path carefully. Wellness extends to the people around her; together, they form a resilient whole. One of the strongest rewards is comforting others with songs.
A line from the song A little more love—composed by Carmen Santonja 30 years ago—echoes from 1993 Bosnia to 2023 Ukraine. Have we learned enough?
It’s a moment of reflection. The art seeks space to breathe, to turn down the volume when needed, and to keep moving toward change—even when progress feels fragile. The drive is to keep asking for a miracle, even if it means kneeling to plead for it.
Are we doomed to humanity’s fall?
I hope not. The way forward requires vigilance, open eyes, and a willingness to act. Distrust can lead to disaster if a warped mind gains the upper hand, so staying awake matters more than ever.