The Spanish artist Mori’s debut album is inspired and instinctual lo-fi pop. El Niño Bola is imbued with the musical spirit of everyone from Beck to Dean Blunt, classic soul music and traditional balladry. It’s the kind of record that, despite all its marks of atemporality, still feels like it could’ve only dropped right here, right now. I was happy to get the Madrid-based artist on the line, email-style, where he jotted down some thoughtful responses to my questions: about his influences, his music-making process, and the state of the scene in Spain. Read the piece below. 

The music on El Niño Bola gestures to a lot of different eras and reference paths, but it doesn’t really settle on any one thing. I’m curious to know more about some of your core influences.

It has a lot to do with how I relate to music from the past. I am very curious about the music I love. I like tracing lines between artists and movements, noticing both differences and connections. I feel a certain distance from twentieth-century music that allows me to see it in a more abstract way. Of course, genres are different and rich in their own way, aesthetically and sonically, but a lot of them appeal to the same impulses. For me, it often comes down to honesty and trance. In that sense, Suicide might have more in common with dub music than with The Stooges.

To me, the record doesn’t feel like it’s jumping from one place to another. Even if some sounds point to different eras, I tend to hear them as part of the same whole. I work mostly through intuition, and I’ve always felt closer to rough or imperfect sounds. They carry a certain sense of honesty for me. That pull toward older or rougher sounds probably also comes from a general uneasiness with the present. Interestingly, the lyrics themselves lean more toward hope than fear. I think the darker, more pessimistic tone on a sonic level is the way I’ve found to stay connected to a more optimistic part of myself. Some references I’ve kept very close for a long time are The Headphone Masterpiece by Cody Chesnutt as the epitome of honesty, the way Arthur Russell understood music, and how Alan Vega would sing as if he were stepping into the void. That kind of honesty, and the way it comes through sonically, is something I really connect with.

How do you know when a vocal performance is a keeper?

I know it’s a keeper when it feels like I really meant what I was saying, when the feeling comes through before anything else. I need to feel like I’m not performing or just reading the lyrics. Most of the vocals and lyrics were improvised, recorded while trying to stay in that headspace.

Is there a song on the record that you are particularly fond of?

I am the happiest with the songs that came to life fairly quickly. Those are the ones that have been the least subjected to overthinking and thus the ones I feel more comfortable with as time goes on. “Big, Big Love,” “DANCE,” and “It’s Only Natural” are my personal favorites but that may change, of course.

What are some of your favorite ways to degrade a sound?

Roy, the producer, and I usually figure it out as we go. We try to find a sweet spot. It depends on the song. A lot of pedals, tape, simple things. You do it, you listen, and you move on. I like that once you do something, it stays that way. I feel comfortable with that workflow because it allows me not to overthink.

How did “I Feel Good” come together? When did you know you needed AMORE on that track?

Two years ago, after a full night of drinking, a close friend of my dad introduced me to Felt’s “Primitive Painters,” with Elizabeth Fraser singing on it. It hit me really hard. One of those songs that finds you exactly when you need it, and then just stays with you. When I came back to Madrid, I played it to AMORE straight away. She loved it, and it kind of lingered between us. Later on, while working on “I Feel Good,” I realized the song was drifting into a similar emotional space. At that point it felt natural to ask her if she’d want to be part of it, especially since she’d already told me it was her favorite track from the early versions of the album. I admire her a lot. She’s one of the most talented and intelligent people I know, and having her on the record makes me super happy. She’s always inspired me, and she really understands what I’m trying to do. <3

Could you talk a bit about Rusia-IDK? Does the collective have a mission statement?

I love and admire all of them so much. They are pretty much like family to me. There’s no mission as such, just care for the work and for each other. 

On a sort of similar tip, it seems like the scene in Madrid is really exciting right now. What’s it like on the ground over there?

I think a lot of it has to do with how small the scene actually is. We all know each other and have been lucky enough to share references and ideas. The industry here is small too, which helps. It doesn’t really feel competitive. We look out for each other. I wouldn’t say this is only happening in Madrid. There are people doing things with care for music throughout Spain. Some people I genuinely enjoy are: Azuleja, Otro, LeChatelier, Nu Vilas, Irenegarry and many more…

What are some of your hopes and dreams for 2026? Have you been working on new music at all this year?

I’m really excited about the live shows. I feel like that’s where El Niño Bola might really shine. Ideally, whatever comes after this record would be built around fully improvised jams, trying to capture the energy of the moment and then bring that same energy into the shows. I don’t really have any fixed goals or dreams beyond figuring out how to make an honest living from art. I just

want to stay alert and inspired by what’s around me. To keep paying attention and to keep learning.