“Today is the first day of my life, I threw the match and set it all alight,” the Colombian electronic artist Ela Minu sings on a key track from her new abum DIA. The song, called “Onwards,” is archetypal Ela Minus: aggressive, combative, and sneering music wrapped in subdued soprano vocals — the sound of fire and ice at the gates.
Contrasts are a part of Ela Minus’ process. The artist, whose real name is Gabriela Jimeno Caldos, was born in Bogotá and spent her formative years drumming in punk bands before moving to Boston to attend the Berklee College of Music, where she studied jazz drumming. Shortly thereafter, she moved toward working with synthesizers, even going as far as designing and building her own instruments. (She officially adopted the Ela Minus moniker in 2015.) After a series of buzz-worthy independent EP releases, she became the first Latin American artist signed to Domino Records and released her highly acclaimed debut full-length, Acts of Rebellion, in 2020.
After spending the first few post-pandemic years touring the globe in support of the record, she began surveying the American continent for inspiration, recording across multiple locations in Colombia, Mexico, and the United States. All of that resulted in DIA, her most personal and introspective piece of music to date. But that’s not to say that she’s gone soft. DIA is filled with tracks that refine her “punch first, talk later” style of electronic music. Just before the release of the project, Rolling Stone caught up with Ela Minus to discuss her career progression and music-making process.
Your career path is very interesting. You came to the United States for music school and then you started designing your own synthesizers. What piqued your interest in electronic music?
I grew up playing drums in a punk band so I like that spirit of aggressive, loud music. Maybe it was my first influence, but it’s hard for me to say. I wasn’t really exposed to a lot of live music other than rock growing up in Colombia. There weren’t really any non-Colombian bands or DJs touring. So when I moved to the States for college, that was my first exposure to electronic music. And it was there that I made the connection that a lot of the bands I loved as a teenager, like Radiohead and Yeah Yeah Yeahs, used synthesizers — I thought they were effects on the guitars or something, I didn’t know. As soon as I made that connection, it kind of opened this door that I eagerly dove through.
But it wasn’t as simple as you hearing Bjork’s Vespertine. What motivated you to pursue this style full-time?
I was a drummer from nine years old until I was eighteen. The moment I left Colombia, I was over rock music, to be honest. I moved to college and started studying jazz and synthesizers and music synthesis. I was exposed to all of this new music, a lot of Bjork and James Blake, Four Tet, Caribou. I started listening to things I wanted to make for myself. I tried to explain it to my bandmates from my position as the drummer, but I quickly realized that it was not going to go anywhere — I needed to do it by myself. And it just felt like I arrived at a point where I had more technical knowledge and had kind of taught myself how to produce. It felt easier to teach myself how to produce and make music on my own than trying to explain to these other boys what I’m hearing in my head, which is why I made my first EP. I had this sound in my head, and I just needed to get it out somehow.
Part of your curriculum involved studying jazz music. Does jazz inform a lot of the music you’re making as Ela Minus?
Definitely a lot. I still listen to the music of my drum teacher, Terri Lynn Carrington. She was my private instructor for four years in drums, so I think a lot about her teachings. Everything she taught me about drums kind of applies to all aspects of music-making. And I keep going back to the classics, a lot of Bill Evans, Chet Baker, Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, and Art Blakey.
How has your production process changed since your early EPs? Those early records [First Words and Kiddo] quickly establish your signature sound. How much do you focus on developing your voice, or is your music really an extension of experience and access to different production techniques?
I think I definitely have found my voice, but I keep looking to develop as a musician. Those early EPs intentionally had a very specific sound. I wanted to make something that sounded unique, which was really the kernel of the idea to start a solo project. I was tired of not really being excited by a lot of artists, realizing that a lot of music was starting to sound the same. I didn’t have any budget, but I also didn’t want one. I was trying to make electronic music from a perspective of the life of a jazz or punk band, where each synthesizer was like its own band member. “Do I have a synthesizer for all the drums? One for all the basses? One for all the chords?” I wanted to take this band of synths, and focused on working for one week, and then whatever I record would go on YouTube. I was trying to be coherent and cohesive with what I was doing — making music which I could perform live as-is. This new album is the first time where I’ve focused on not restricting myself and using whatever instruments that I want. It’s growth by trusting that I can work in different ways.
One thing that’s changed since you began your career 10 years ago is the amount of media attention for Latina electronic artists operating in a range of styles, from Sofia Kourtesis to someone like Elysia Crampton (Chuquimamani-Condori) who makes dense underground DJ music. How do you think about your place in the music scene as it relates to your own identity?
Of course, it’s impossible to get away from it. I’ve learned identity is something we all need as humans, and that we look for in the world, to try to understand and to grasp things. I don’t think it’s a negative thing. I agree that the names you mentioned make music different from mine, but so do, you know, Caribou and Floating Points. I feel like I’m kind of touching a lot of worlds, like I’m Latina and I’m Colombian which are things that I am very proud of and part of my identity as a human being. I’m grouped into many different scenes, but I don’t really think I’m 100 percent a part of any of them. I can never be a synth-pop American singer because I’m not American. I can’t do what Sofia Kourtesis does because I’m not making club music. Sitting in-between all these worlds and forging my identity from this unique combination is a big driver personally.
Your lyrics are mostly written in English. Is that your preference when writing song lyrics or is that related to most of your influences being sung in English?
I think both. I’m very committed to trying to be as honest and intuitive as I can with my music. Usually when I start writing something, I hear a vocal melody, and usually it comes already with a sentence, like lyrics, in either English or Spanish. I try to stick to that language and develop the idea through improvisation. It kind of trickles down from one single idea, including the choice of language, so I don’t try to rationalize it. But I also think it has to do with the fact that most of the music I consume, growing up and still to this day, is in English. I’ve been living in English-speaking places for most of my adulthood. English and Spanish are very different languages but it’s helpful to be able to choose depending on how I want to express my ideas.
I often think of musicians that aren’t Latin American, who sing in English when it’s not their native language, and how it doesn’t come with the same controversy. Like Bjork, for example, I’ve never really seen any conversation about why she sings in English, but it’s evidently not her native tongue. Daft Punk and Phoenix too, many global north musicians that aren’t native English speakers. But for some reason, it’s only a topic when it’s Latino musicians. I think that’s interesting.
Listening to your latest album, DIA, there appears to be a major post-punk influence to a lot of tracks, like early Suicide records, whereas Acts of Rebellion had more of an anthemic quality.
They’re different sounding albums, but you can hear the same artist behind them. The difference is in how they reflect the five years in-between making each album. The sounds on DIA originate from working in a lot of different places instead of at home — lots of change of scenery. I was less focused on self-made rules as far as production or writing. I felt freer to do whatever I wanted. I don’t consider DIA a better record by any means, but as a musician, I feel like I got better at what I do.
Acts of Rebellion gained a bit of a reputation as an agit-pop album, one very heavy in political sentiment. DIA, on the other hand, sounds like an entirely personal work by comparison.
Everything is political. You can see them as two sides of the same coin. Just one is dealing with certain topics outwardly, and the other one is dealing with the same topics inwardly.
When you say that everything is political, are you trying to make a specific statement within your work?
Not really, to be honest. But I do think when I say everything is political, I never said that Acts of Rebellion was a political album. That was always everyone else’s interpretation. But when I was faced with conversations about it, I realized that being from Latin America, you see the effects of politics on everyday life. And I think that is evidently becoming a reality for more countries, where you begin to see how your life is affected by these things. And the day-to-day is all affected by these bigger things.
Acts of Rebellion was the most honest thing I could have done at that time. While making DIA I realized that I could call out my own bullshit and started realizing more about myself. It’s important to remember that Acts of Rebellion was released during a pandemic. I was essentially going through a crisis while making that record. It’s a snapshot of dealing with and understanding that crisis through music. It made me realize how I was blindingly optimistic and always putting on a façade. Writing DIA I thought, “Wait, who am I really?” In retrospect, the first album wasn’t honest about who I really am, but it was honest about who I was in that moment. This time, for my own sake, I needed to go deeper.
On “Broken,” there are lines like, “Mother, I’ve been a fool . . . now I’m broken” and lyrical themes about a loss of faith. Other tracks like “QQQQ,” specifically mention “the end of the world.” Did the lyrical content on DIA reflect any kind of hopeless or nihilistic feelings about the state of the world?
Even in those lyrics, I say, “Mother, I’ve been a fool . . . and now I’m broken.” But you know, the next verse says, “I’ll keep writing melodies, to sing away the gloom” and that “I haven’t found myself a faith.” “QQQQ” says (in Spanish) “let the world end” if we’re not going to change, meaning if we’re not going to change and be better, let’s fucking end this. That’s not nihilism. There’s faith and hope in everything I do. DIA is a contrast between darkness and light and combat. The record is a call to action, just like Acts of Rebellion. One of the reasons I named the record DIA is because, the way I see it, I’m turning a light on and writing about everything I see. And when you turn a light on, you see what was hidden before by darkness, which is sadness and desperation, which is interesting to write about. But you also see the bright side. You see the light, and you write about that too. It’s like reality with all its colors. Something that I attempt in my music is to invite people to not be afraid to talk about these things. And that doesn’t make you a nihilist or a pessimist. It’s important to talk about things so you’re able to face and overcome them.
[DIA] is an invitation to look at yourself and accept when you’ve been knocked down and find the resilience to get up again, to remember that it doesn’t matter how low you are, you can listen to this song. I think it’s extremely positive in its sound, and it’s extremely life-affirming when you sing the lyrics, to accept being low.
One song that longtime fans of yours will find interesting is “I Want to Be Better.” As written, it’s a direct love song, which is unique in your discography. Did this come out of a personal experience?
It was 100 percent a personal experience. It was kind of a movie-like moment where I was making that song. I had the instrumental in the studio, and I literally got in a fight on the phone and sat back down and wrote the lyrics, which are very personal. I think it’s the first time that I’ve written a real love song, and I’m proud that that’s the love song that I chose to write because I felt open to expressing the confrontational aspect of being in love.
If you were only reading the lyrics, it was reminiscent of Helado Negro. Do you find inspiration in any contemporaries making electronic music?
[Roberto Lange] and I understand each other very well. He’s a close friend, and musically is a very big inspiration. Phasor is my favorite album of 2024. I’m obsessed with it. Caribou and Floating Points too, I think those are the ones that I feel the most inspired by. I’m lucky that I can reach out to them for advice, or send them a demo or whatever, because I trust their taste so much and the way they’ve built their careers. It’s hard sometimes to figure out how to navigate this world, so it’s amazing to have people like that who you’re able to call upon.
Who else inspires you musically?
Off the top of my head, Adrienne Lenker and Nick Hakim. Nicolas Jaar — I’m obsessed with everything he does for sure. He’s someone I admire musically; the weight of what he produces.
You’ve been doing this for almost ten years now, and many of your fans have been following you since you were making those independent EPs. What do you see next for yourself, personally and musically?
I just want to keep making music. I wish I could make more, but I need to get better at balance, because it’s crazy how much time goes into making records. I’m in love with the craft of making records, and I want to explore so many new things with sound. Maybe I’ll start writing music for films. Hitting the 10-year mark since my first EP makes me reflect on everything, and I’ve realized that the type of music I make isn’t really mainstream, yet I still have a career. I think people notice that, and it’s inspiring a lot of young people, especially in Latin American countries. They know that they can make a career producing music without compromising their artistry. And that means so much to me.
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