Rubio is the alter ego of Francisca Straube, a Chilean singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist. The artist likes to roll her own cigarettes with loose tobacco. “I can only find it at the airport,” she says. She’s been living in Mexico City for three years, and it was amid the chaos of the Mexican metropolis that her new album, *Espero podamos ver un OVNI juntos*, was born.
“I can’t believe I’m about to celebrate my third anniversary here. It feels like I’ve been here longer,” she confides. “Being an immigrant is hard; there are a thousand challenges, and life in the city is different, but even so, it’s wonderful. I’m very happy here,” says Rubio.
Are there more UFO sightings in Mexico than in Chile? Here’s Jaime Maussan.
Interestingly, in Chile and Mexico, the topic of extraterrestrials is seen as a source of energy. I love being in this country and knowing that the Mayan civilization once existed. Knowing that all of that happened and that Mexico is like the heart of the planet, I find that very meaningful, very profound.
Actually, the album title is kind of poetic, isn’t it?
When I came up with that name, it was kind of like that. Like something you might say to your mom, your dog, yourself, your angels, your guides, a girlfriend, or a boyfriend; I liked that phrase because it’s kind of apocalyptic—because maybe if we see a UFO together, we could die together; or we could get abducted. If we see a UFO, it could be the most magical moment of our lives. If I say that phrase to you, it’s because I want to spend my whole life with you, or because I want to experience that special moment, or—if I say it to my dog—I want him to be with me forever.
But there’s also a certain melancholy to it…
Yeah, this album is taking me back a bit to my teenage years and my childhood; it felt a bit like a diary of my life. When I was a kid, I kept a lot of diaries and drew a lot of pictures, and it’s as if I were drawing those pictures with the UFO—I don’t know, like something that was unique to me and the neighborhood where I lived.
Musically speaking I know this is the first one where you don’t use Auto-Tune. Was the intention to go for a more organic sound… or are you turning your back on Auto-Tune?
No, not at all. The first song on the album, which is “Me asusta amar tanto la felicidad,” and “Tengo fe,” which is the last one—the first one is pitched up with autotune and pitch correction, and the other is pitched down and also has autotune and stuff like that, so it’s not like I’ve let go 100%; I love vocal effects—I mean, I’ll always use them; I love them—but of course, there are some songs on this album that are a little rawer, more normal, in a way.
So is there such a thing as “normality” within a song?
Yeah, I mean, it’s not just normal—it’s kind of rawer, more real, in a way.
They say that to tell if a song is good, you strip it down to nothing and play it acoustically—and if it still sounds good, it’s a good song.
I mean, that’s what they say—that if you can play a song on a guitar or sing it, it’s a good song.
And do you agree?
I don’t know, I listen to a lot of instrumental music without vocals, and I find some really good pieces in it. So, I think that phrase people use comes more from pop music—from the concept of a “song,” like a verse, a chorus, that kind of structure, I think.
Yeah, sure, it’s exactly the structure—because if you took away all the electronic elements from a Chemical Brothers song, I don’t know what it would sound like.
Sure, that’s why, but The Chemical Brothers are really good.
And are your lyrics usually this confessional, or did they just come out more personal this time?
I think that, as Rubio, I’ve always written songs that come from the depths of my being. I like to look inward, heal little inner wounds, and talk about animals, nature, the wind, and the sun; I always talk a lot about the sun.
Do you think music can change the world?
I think this album—and the previous ones—always touch on that a little: first, the revolution is internal; first, listen to yourself, heal yourself, discover yourself, cry, feel—and then try to change the world. I think it’s easier to look at the grass on the other side than at your own, isn’t it? So, in the end, this album also touches on that a bit—looking inward, tuning into your inner world.
“I think everyone wants to change the world, but no one wants to change themselves.”
And is it hard to write songs like, for example, “Voy creciendo”? Is it hard to suddenly come to terms with the fact that the years are passing by and all that?
Ever since I moved to Mexico and everything—being an immigrant—I feel like I’ve had to start over in many ways. I’m about to turn 40, and I feel like I’m going through a midlife crisis. This song is a little bit about that. It’s like starting over. You never stop growing; there are fears, there are vast unknowns, but we keep moving forward—life is beautiful. I also believe it’s never too late to start over.
Yes, of course, you can tell from the lyrics that some of them are nostalgic, but I don’t see any depression or defeatism; I see a kind of balance between darkness, so to speak, and light.
Yes, I think my style is never depressing or anything like that; it’s always about learning, after all. I’m not saying I’ve got everything figured out; there are many songs that are for myself, or about my past self. There’s always something to learn about who I am. I think that could be a recurring theme. Even when there’s sadness, anger, or rage, it’s about asking yourself: Why did you feel this anger? What did you learn from feeling this anger? Things like that.
And there’s also a song called “Nuestra canción”—well, the title is very inclusive, very much about falling in love and sharing moments—but do you have any special songs in your life, other than Rubio’s? A song that you’d say, “That’s my song.”
Wow, a lot. Mostly Radiohead.
Oh, really? What’s your favorite Radiohead album?
Wow, that’s a tough one. I like several of them, but I think *In Rainbows* is a wonderful album. I love *Amnesiac*—I like several of them. I think Radiohead is timeless; I never get tired of listening to them.
And are there any in Spanish that you could mention?
I love Simón Díaz’s “Tonada de luna llena,” a Venezuelan song.
Hey, and speaking of the visual universe surrounding the album—the artwork—where do those influences come from?
I don’t usually rely much on references. I have this imaginary world that I’m constantly creating; that’s why I think the project is so eclectic. But I do really like art, cinematography, and videos that have something to say. I have few videos that are purely aesthetic; I like them to have a message, no matter how simple or complex they are. I feel like having a musical project is like an umbrella under which you can include poetry, photography, film, music… there are all sorts of little things under that umbrella. So I’ve always really enjoyed creating that imaginary world.
Does the album flow as a collection of songs that are connected to one another, like a concept album, or are they just songs…?
Yes, I always make concept albums. I usually come up with the song titles first, and once I have the titles, I start imagining the whole story: what it’s going to be about, what I want to say, what colors to use. So I like making concept albums.
And do you think there’s a Latin American sensibility when it comes to making music that sets it apart from Radiohead, for example?
I think that we Latin artists have a certain sensitivity, depth, and vulnerability when it comes to many aspects of life. They call us “Third World” and all that, but you’ll see that in the end, we’re the coolest. I think our connection to nature, the fact that we’re warmer, that we look each other in the eyes, that we hug each other… there’s a certain chaos to it that’s really beautiful. We’re not so structured, and that’s really lovely. And you can tell in the music: there’s a very special heart to it.
Discover more interviews about Ibero-American music in AW Magazine.
