INTERVIEW WITH...
“A very potent mix of emotion, inspiration and connectedness to everything.”
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Before Maïa Vidal’s album ‘You’re The Waves’ landed in my mailbox, she was a noble unknown to me. For shame, because her music turned out to be captivating, mysterious, gripping and generally excellent. When an interview opportunity arose, I jumped at the chance like a, well, jumper. Miss Vidal proved to be such a friendly and enthusiastic speaker, that we just had a conversation on life, languages, love and music. There were no boundaries, no holds barred. Miss Vidal was genuine, kind and open. What a nice lady.
Julian De Backer: “I noticed you have a Belgian label. How did you find them?” Maïa Vidal: “It’s funny. When I was recording the first album, I knew I wanted to get in contact with them. Because they were representing Lonely Drifter Karen, a trio of which the members had all met in Barcelona. I was friends with friends of theirs, we were connected in some way. I felt a similarity, so when I was making my first album, I thought it’d be cool to have a label. I went and checked out Crammed Discs. I saw their roster, and they had signed all the bands that I had listened to when I was younger. Artistst like Balkan Beat Box, Taraf de Haïdouks, Chicha Libre, all the world music that I loved. So there you go.” Julian: “I don’t think it’s a given that you know these bands. They’re not world famous. Where does your interest in these artists come from?” Maïa: “I think it’s mostly my dad’s influence. I grew up in the States, and where I’m from, there’s not a huge emphasis on world music. My dad is French, and he’s just a music nut in general. When I was in high school, when I was 14 or 15, I had a mix tape that I listened to. A large portion of that was Taraf de Haïdouks. That was just weird. I was a weird kid. Other people liked the bands that they could see in concert. For example, a big band when I was in high school was Dave Matthews Band.” Julian: “Million sellers in America, relatively obscure in Belgium.” Maïa: “Everybody around me loved Dave Matthews Band, and I thought: “Wouldn’t it be nice to actually like a band that you had a chance to see live?” And then there was me, listening to flamenco. Wasn’t going to happen.” Julian: “So your Dad’s French. French-French? Or from New Orleans?” Maïa: “He’s a real French guy.” (The waitress interrupts and brings a drink. Miss Vidal asked for ‘some water’, and receives a liter bottle. Yours truly gets a bottle of Coca-Cola.) Maïa: “My goodness. Are you gonna help me finish this?” Julian: “Eh, yes, naturally.” Maïa: “A giant bottle of water, and a small Coke.” Julian: “To emphasize the difference between you and me.” Maïa: “Exactly (laughs). So my dad is from Montpellier. I spent my summers there. I did always feel like I was very much a part of that culture, even though I grew up in the States. My dad is an immigrant, my grandmother is Japanese, my mom’s best friend is from Iran. When we played a board game, we would always split up the foreigners. Imagine playing ‘Trivial Pursuit’, and posing an American question. The French, Japanese and Irani players would say: “I don’t know that song” or “I don’t know that story”. So I grew up in a very international environment. Both my dad and my mom’s mom left their country in their early twenties, never to return. Which, at every level, made me think that was the way to act.” Julian: “You speak English, French, Spanish … you’re an international polyglot.” Maïa: “It definitely helped having had French when I started doing Spanish, even though I was never doing my homework. Right out of high school, I was travelling in Guatemala. Whenever I would speak, I’d have a thick, French accent in Spanish. Which was confusing for the people over there, who said: “We thought you were American”. Everything gets crossed.” Julian: “Does your dad still have that cute French accent when he’s speaking English?” Maïa: “Absolutely! He had several friends in our small town. All of them were living in the States for at least 25 years. Every one of them had a worse accent than the one before. They just hold on to that. I was talking to a French guy, and he was trying to explain the complex the French have with languages and with words. Even in French, with the bon mot. He said: “Yeah, I can speak English to you, and it might be okay. But if there’s another French person, I would be too embarrassed to try in front of them.” That’s what he told me. I tried not to get into that aspect of languages, because it’s much more interesting to just throw yourself into it. But I do feel like I have a different personality in each language. In French, I’m a lot more timid. Partly, it’s the context. I grew up as an only child …” Julian: “Ah, me too.” Maïa: “It’s hard. Everybody always treated me like a kid. When I speak French, there’s a little bit of that sentiment. To a certain extent, I am French. I’m half-born. Therefore, making a really bad grammatical mistake feels very wrong somehow. |
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In French, just naturally, even my body language changes. I get more tense, a little bit smaller, whereas everybody tells me I’m more of a bitch in English. My voice gets lower, I’m much more sarcastic, I know I can crack more jokes. And then in Spanish, well, that’s my favourite version of myself. In Spanish, I have very few anxieties or complexes.”
Julian: “And all of this, without thinking about it? It comes naturally?”
Maïa: “It’s something I realized from listening to myself, and from knowing myself. If I listen to a recording of myself speaking Spanish versus a recording of myself speaking English, the results are very different. And that translates into music as well. On my first album, I had done a couple of songs in French. It went really well, because I was recording the album in a childlike mindset. Very naïve, nostalgic, simple. Going into French for that made a lot of sense. For the new album, ‘You’re The Waves’, I tried to do one in French, and it was as if my French personality hadn’t caught up with the rest of my personalities. A lot has changed the last five years. I’ve grown up. Instead of feeling I have to hide in childhood, I’m suddenly uncovering concepts of romance, seduction and sensuality. I hadn’t touched on those subjects before. So when I tried to do something in French, it did not come out at all. My label said “Please, do a French song” and I confessed “You guys, I can’t”. Because I had fallen in love in Spanish, that language was in my head all the time. When I started to write or song in Spanish, it was really fascinating. I listened to the recording, and I sing differently in Spanish than I do in English. Fun influences, that are very preconscious. “I see it, but it’s not something I think about.” Suddenly, my words are shaping differently, my attitude changes, my body language …”
Julian: “Funny you should say you’re timid in French. Have you ever heard the France Gall anecdote? Serge Gainsbourg had written a song for her called ‘Les Sucettes’ (literally ‘The Lollipops’), which was full of risqué double-entendres. But France Gall sang it without having a clue, and felt betrayed afterwards.”
Maïa: “Haha, yeah, what did she expect?”
Julian: “Talking of languages and accents also reminded me of an Arnold Schwarzenegger story. Apparently, after 45+ years in the United States, his English accent is almost impeccable. But his fans demand the thick Austrian accent. So he has a language coach that helps him with the Austrian accent …”
Julian: “And all of this, without thinking about it? It comes naturally?”
Maïa: “It’s something I realized from listening to myself, and from knowing myself. If I listen to a recording of myself speaking Spanish versus a recording of myself speaking English, the results are very different. And that translates into music as well. On my first album, I had done a couple of songs in French. It went really well, because I was recording the album in a childlike mindset. Very naïve, nostalgic, simple. Going into French for that made a lot of sense. For the new album, ‘You’re The Waves’, I tried to do one in French, and it was as if my French personality hadn’t caught up with the rest of my personalities. A lot has changed the last five years. I’ve grown up. Instead of feeling I have to hide in childhood, I’m suddenly uncovering concepts of romance, seduction and sensuality. I hadn’t touched on those subjects before. So when I tried to do something in French, it did not come out at all. My label said “Please, do a French song” and I confessed “You guys, I can’t”. Because I had fallen in love in Spanish, that language was in my head all the time. When I started to write or song in Spanish, it was really fascinating. I listened to the recording, and I sing differently in Spanish than I do in English. Fun influences, that are very preconscious. “I see it, but it’s not something I think about.” Suddenly, my words are shaping differently, my attitude changes, my body language …”
Julian: “Funny you should say you’re timid in French. Have you ever heard the France Gall anecdote? Serge Gainsbourg had written a song for her called ‘Les Sucettes’ (literally ‘The Lollipops’), which was full of risqué double-entendres. But France Gall sang it without having a clue, and felt betrayed afterwards.”
Maïa: “Haha, yeah, what did she expect?”
Julian: “Talking of languages and accents also reminded me of an Arnold Schwarzenegger story. Apparently, after 45+ years in the United States, his English accent is almost impeccable. But his fans demand the thick Austrian accent. So he has a language coach that helps him with the Austrian accent …”
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Maïa: “No!? That’s so funny!”
Julian: “Now I have this very vivid image of Arnold struggling with an Austrian accent.” Maïa: “The coach going: “Come on, you can do this! Again, from the top!”, that’s hilarious.” Julian: “We’ve been talking for 11 minutes, and I haven’t even asked my first question. Excellent. When you have to pull the answers out of the artist, the results are always awkward.” Maïa: “Feel free to stop me. I started this album two years ago, so it’s two years I’ve been wanting to talk about it. Now, if somebody opens the door, it just flows out.” Julian: “You’re a singer, but you’re also a visual artist. You combine the two. You even made the lovely artwork of your album. When you get an idea, do you weigh your options down to: “Do I make an album or do I make a painting?” Or vice versa?” Maïa: “Hm. That’s interesting. (pause) I have to be in gear. When I’m in song-writing mode, and I suddenly decide to make a music video, my feeling is that I have to shift gears. But that takes a second. “Writing, writing … oh, now I have to think about the visuals! (screech) OK. Now I’m a filmmaker.” Same thing with the art. Even to the point where I’m now in live gear. Any inspiration, any creative energy and juice goes into bettering the live performance. Even though I can be very chaotic, and my inspiration wants to go into lots of places, I have to channel it into one thing. Songs don’t come to me, but creative juice does. It comes from somewhere, gets squirted into me, and I decide which way I take it. Right now, I would start writing new songs. But I have forbidden it, to myself. With the first album, the tour I undertook inspired me to write a second album. Which I started writing on tour. Which meant I fell in love with a new musical direction. But every night …” Julian: “You still had to perform the old songs.” Maïa: “Exactly! I felt like I made a mistake. I didn’t know that would happen. Now, if I have a second to myself, I tend to focus on the stuff I just created. Luckily, I haven’t gotten sick of my new songs, even though they’re two years old at this point. But it’s really like switching gears. As a recording artist, I get to bring together all my desperate passions. I did studio art in college, in Montreal, and it was always missing an audio component. I always wanted to do installation work with smells, and sound in the background, and warmth. A total environment, a complete work of art. That’s what prompted me to do the packaging, and the music videos, designing a live show, choosing my dress, and the way I look. It’s not just me singing. It’s a whole universe.” Julian: “After a while, you did find a way to channel your creative personas?” |
Maïa: “Yes, yes!”
Julian: “That’s good. Also for your own sake. And if an idea for a song doesn’t work out, will you turn it into a picture?”
Maïa: “I don’t think so. Can I? I don’t know. For this album, my song-writing process was very relaxed.”
Julian: “No pressure?”
Maïa: “Right. The idea was to just write a lot. You can compare it to automatic drawing. I had a drawing teacher who taught me to empty my brain, and wait to see what would happen. There was something bigger than yourself in that approach. That was my process for the song-writing. I gave myself a surrealist or Dadaist exercise: “Empty your brain, noodle around on the keyboard for a little while, always record everything, sing a little melody on top, listen to it for a little while and stop. Do something else the next day.” Just to get warmed up. The cool thing is: I didn’t have the pressure. I didn’t have to think about how it fit into things. Once I got going, things were coming faster and faster. I was really picking up speed, but with the idea that I wasn’t going to question myself. I wasn’t going to say: “Wait, that sounds too – fill in the blank – pop!? Are you kidding me right now?” I come from a punk background …”
Julian: “Does that scare you? Because a good pop song can be a blessing.”
Maïa: “For sure, but at the same time I did have the feeling that I didn’t know where it was coming from. Or I would suddenly start playing with beats, and electro, and vague hip-hop and I would say to myself: “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”. My mantra, my attitude was: “We’ll see. Do what comes out. Don’t get involved in the process.” Later, if it’s too out there, or too far away from the person I want to be, then we’ll figure it out. I was giving myself all the space in the world to just create. Everything was about the first take, everything was about the first spark of inspiration that would come. Some melodies were little chimes I had, that were recorded. In order to write lyrics for a certain song, I laid down in bed with my eyes closed and started singing with my eyes closed. With a blank mind, almost half sleeping. Later, I went back and listened and judged the lines. Experimenting and playing were a big part of it all.”
Julian: “Do you have a notebook next to your bed? The moment between being awake and being asleep can be very creative.”
Maïa: “Yeah, totally. Sometimes, afterwards, it makes no sense whatsoever. It was certainly a source of inspiration, that vulnerable place between being awake and asleep. Turning off your brain is hard. I’m an obsessive overthinker, I’m super anxious. I was lucky enough to have a huge love story fall into my lap, right when I started to write.”
Julian: “That’s good. Also for your own sake. And if an idea for a song doesn’t work out, will you turn it into a picture?”
Maïa: “I don’t think so. Can I? I don’t know. For this album, my song-writing process was very relaxed.”
Julian: “No pressure?”
Maïa: “Right. The idea was to just write a lot. You can compare it to automatic drawing. I had a drawing teacher who taught me to empty my brain, and wait to see what would happen. There was something bigger than yourself in that approach. That was my process for the song-writing. I gave myself a surrealist or Dadaist exercise: “Empty your brain, noodle around on the keyboard for a little while, always record everything, sing a little melody on top, listen to it for a little while and stop. Do something else the next day.” Just to get warmed up. The cool thing is: I didn’t have the pressure. I didn’t have to think about how it fit into things. Once I got going, things were coming faster and faster. I was really picking up speed, but with the idea that I wasn’t going to question myself. I wasn’t going to say: “Wait, that sounds too – fill in the blank – pop!? Are you kidding me right now?” I come from a punk background …”
Julian: “Does that scare you? Because a good pop song can be a blessing.”
Maïa: “For sure, but at the same time I did have the feeling that I didn’t know where it was coming from. Or I would suddenly start playing with beats, and electro, and vague hip-hop and I would say to myself: “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”. My mantra, my attitude was: “We’ll see. Do what comes out. Don’t get involved in the process.” Later, if it’s too out there, or too far away from the person I want to be, then we’ll figure it out. I was giving myself all the space in the world to just create. Everything was about the first take, everything was about the first spark of inspiration that would come. Some melodies were little chimes I had, that were recorded. In order to write lyrics for a certain song, I laid down in bed with my eyes closed and started singing with my eyes closed. With a blank mind, almost half sleeping. Later, I went back and listened and judged the lines. Experimenting and playing were a big part of it all.”
Julian: “Do you have a notebook next to your bed? The moment between being awake and being asleep can be very creative.”
Maïa: “Yeah, totally. Sometimes, afterwards, it makes no sense whatsoever. It was certainly a source of inspiration, that vulnerable place between being awake and asleep. Turning off your brain is hard. I’m an obsessive overthinker, I’m super anxious. I was lucky enough to have a huge love story fall into my lap, right when I started to write.”
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Julian: “In your personal life?”
Maïa: “Yeah! I fell in love, I left the relationship I was in, a complete soup of emotions. It was an infinite source of inspiration. That moment where you first fall in love, you’re high all the time …” Julian: “It is a drug.” Maïa: “And it’s similar to that pre-sleep or pre-wake up phase, where there’s a gauze on everything. Everything feels meaningful. A very potent mix of emotion, inspiration and connectedness to everything. I would produce the songs by myself, but when I think back on it, I don’t always recognize myself in the songs. Because they came out all “done”. I had the melody, the lyrics, and I recorded it.” Julian: “Have you ever seen the movie ‘Hook’?” Maïa: “Yeah.” Julian: “It’s one of my favourites.” Maïa: “It’s a good one.” Julian: “Near the end of the movie, Tinkerbell (Julia Roberts) says: “You know that place between sleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you... Peter Pan. That's where I'll be waiting.” That’s so true, right?” Maïa: “Exactly, exactly!” Julian: “I remember seeing the movie as a kid, and that scene didn’t register with me. The themes of love, devotion, comeuppance and giving up. The best movies have these two layers: what you see as a kid, and what you see as an adult. It works on two different levels.” Maïa: “Totally. Now I want to rewatch that.” Julian: “You should!” Maïa: “Okay! I remember the ‘Rufio! Rufio!’ part …” Julian: “Yes, Rufio! The actor is still very handsome.” Maïa: “Oh, he’s great (giggles)” Julian: “Dante Basco, the guy who played Rufio, was sixteen when he did this. It must be his Filipino blood. He hasn’t changed one bit. Not one wrinkle. He’s 40 now.” Maïa: “Oh my God! It’s Neverland!” Julian: “Yes, Neverland! You started at the tender age of 16. What have you learned since then? How much does the 16-year old Maïa Vidal differ from the one that’s sitting in front of me?” Maïa: “First of all, that was my most American moment. Wanting to do punk rock with two other girls, in a rebellious way. I didn’t have many friends, I didn’t really fit in and I didn’t really want to either. I knew there was something more interesting than school. I never said: “I want to be a rockstar!”, it just kind of happened by itself. The first songs that I wrote were just me, trying to figure it out. There was a lot to prove. Especially with punk, you have to ‘outpunk’ everyone! Certainly when you’re a little girl that has to go to school the next day, in order for people to take you seriously. There was a definite struggle, because I had to have a more aggressive persona to hold my own. Today, I don’t know if I would go for punk necessarily. If you think about the early 2000’s and women in music? Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and all that garbage. Or, on the other hand, Sleater-Kinney and Hole. It was very polarized. There was nothing in between. Either you were plastic, or you were trash. And that was great. You didn’t have your Regina Spektors, your Joanna Newsoms, your Feists …” Julian: “We did have Tori Amos.” Maïa: “That’s true, that’s true, but to be heard, you definitely had the feeling that you needed to prove yourself. That definitely changed. Of course, my music also changed a lot. But from the age of 21 to now 27, the change is even more defined. When I was doing punk, it was similar to now, in that I didn’t give a shit. I wasn’t plagued by “What am I doing? Who am I?” That all came in my twenties. I feel that I’m more alive now, then when I started doing this music. My first album was precious. I didn’t want to get contaminated by other people touching my music. I figured there was a golden alchemy to every element, and if the smallest change was implemented, it suddenly wouldn’t be my song anymore. |
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Everything felt fragile. When I started making music, you take the gains you get for granted. Touring, being in magazines, but I always wanted more …”
Julian: “More. More.”
Maïa: “”Now I want to be famous in the States”. “Now I want to be famous so-and-so”, etcetera. The cool thing about this being my third album, and being where I am in life, is probably a cliché. The first album you make, not knowing what you’re going to do with it. The second album brings lots of pressure, because you want to prove something. “No, you misunderstood me, this is who I am”, then you do something dark and baroque, people don’t get it, you lose some fans. The third album, you don’t care anymore. You’re just feeling much more comfortable. I’m in a golden place where I’m actually enjoying this life, now. Before, I wanted more. Now, with this new album, with my experiences, I feel more relaxed about everything. Grateful when there’s good things, chill when there’s bad things. More in the present. More zen.”
Julian: “You’re at ease, and at peace, with who you are and what you’re doing.”
Maïa: “Yeah, it’s a classic syndrome of your early twenties. You’re just trying to figure yourself out. Bouncing back and forward between drastically different music styles. I always had to be buying new clothes. Every season of every year, I had a new style. There was a tortured feeling of perception. Now, I haven’t bought a new pair of jeans for two years. Because I still wear black jeans, like I did two years ago. The need for internal change has gone. Even in the production process, I had no more neuroses or trauma. I would leave the songs alone with the co-producer, I would come over the next day, and like it. Not even ask what it was. It was liberating. I can enjoy the process.”
Julian: “Let it go.”
Maïa: “Yeah, totally.”
Julian: “You were born in Santa Barbara, California. When I read that tidbit, I had a pleasant flashback to my youth. My grandmother was a huge fan of the soap opera ‘Santa Barbara’.”
Julian: “More. More.”
Maïa: “”Now I want to be famous in the States”. “Now I want to be famous so-and-so”, etcetera. The cool thing about this being my third album, and being where I am in life, is probably a cliché. The first album you make, not knowing what you’re going to do with it. The second album brings lots of pressure, because you want to prove something. “No, you misunderstood me, this is who I am”, then you do something dark and baroque, people don’t get it, you lose some fans. The third album, you don’t care anymore. You’re just feeling much more comfortable. I’m in a golden place where I’m actually enjoying this life, now. Before, I wanted more. Now, with this new album, with my experiences, I feel more relaxed about everything. Grateful when there’s good things, chill when there’s bad things. More in the present. More zen.”
Julian: “You’re at ease, and at peace, with who you are and what you’re doing.”
Maïa: “Yeah, it’s a classic syndrome of your early twenties. You’re just trying to figure yourself out. Bouncing back and forward between drastically different music styles. I always had to be buying new clothes. Every season of every year, I had a new style. There was a tortured feeling of perception. Now, I haven’t bought a new pair of jeans for two years. Because I still wear black jeans, like I did two years ago. The need for internal change has gone. Even in the production process, I had no more neuroses or trauma. I would leave the songs alone with the co-producer, I would come over the next day, and like it. Not even ask what it was. It was liberating. I can enjoy the process.”
Julian: “Let it go.”
Maïa: “Yeah, totally.”
Julian: “You were born in Santa Barbara, California. When I read that tidbit, I had a pleasant flashback to my youth. My grandmother was a huge fan of the soap opera ‘Santa Barbara’.”
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Maïa: “Right! I’ve never seen it, but people told me about it.”
Julian: “You started out as a punk girl. Have you ever heard of the Belgian punk band ‘The Kids’?” Maïa: “No?” Julian: “They’re vintage, the real deal. They’re still around. One of their best songs is ‘Bloody Belgium’. I brought some tunes for you to listen to, after the interview.” Maïa: “Yes, please!” Julian: “Final question. You played in Japan, which is awesome by itself. The country’s on top of my ‘must visit countries’-list. Does the saying ‘big in Japan’ still hold up?” Maïa: “Haha! Um, I don’t think it holds up the way it used to, because of the internet. You can be big anywhere nowadays.” Julian: “Or very small.” Maïa: “Exactly. But Japan? More than being big IN Japan, I’m big ON Japan. I fucking love Japan. I went there the first time. My grandmother is Japanese and …” Julian: “That’s so awesome. Just the phrase, ‘My grandmother is Japanese’ …” Maïa: “The first time that I went, she and my mom came on tour with me. I met family I didn’t know. And it was the most foreign experience I could imagine, but in a way, it was really familiar. My grandmother had the Japanese TV channel, she would cook Japanese food, she would talk on the phone in Japanese, so the country offered a comforting familiar mix of language and smell, while at the same time, it was wildly different. I have a pre-Japan and post-Japan life. I came back, and I was extremely inspired and shaken up. I was lucky enough to go back a second time, and do another tour, and my grandmother came with me again. Every time I’m there, I wonder to myself: “Is there a way that I can live here?” …” Julian: “And then you realize you need 17.000 million dollars …” Maïa: “Haha, yes! But culturally, your senses get overloaded. My apartment is always full of Japanese stuff. I love it there.” Julian: “How old is your grandmother?” Maïa: “She’s, eh, 78. She and all her classmates were turning 77 when we were there, and that’s apparently a big year. So we had an event, an art show, because she’s also an artist. It was an art show/reunion. I played a couple of songs. And, you know, the Japanese live forever, so this group of women was super strong, and badass, and walking all day. It was great, really awesome.” Julian: “Dimitri ‘Jangojim’ Sakelaropolus, a good friend of mine, is an illustrator. He went to Japan in January 2015, and came back with 7000 photos. Everywhere, on every street, there was something that extremely inspired him. |
He showed me some pictures. I laughed out loud when I saw the ‘Watch out! Metro!’ sign, showing a little manga guy with a funny expression on his face.”
Maïa: “Everything over there is a little cartoon, everything is cute …”
Julian: “And it’s good for the tourists that don’t speak Japanese: everything is so visual, so everybody will understand.”
Maïa: “I have a million hard drives of videos and photos. I had actually shot a little tour documentary video. I was almost done editing, and then my hard drive broke. I lost everything.”
Julian: “No back-up?”
Maïa: “I had a back-up of the raw video, but the project itself – the montage – was gone. Horrible. I tried to get it fixed, but there was no way I was going to get the video back. But: Japan is endlessly inspiring.”
Julian: “Do you also speak a little Japanese?”
Maïa: “Some phrases, and my pronunciation is very good, so I can pretend that I do speak Japanese. But, no. I had learned a little when I was a kid. I had a Japanese neighbour who would babysit me, and teach me a little bit. But you really have to work on it, constantly. It’s not one of those languages that sticks. My grandmother goes once a year, and I took advantage.”
Julian: “Very nice talking to you. I haven’t even asked all my questions. Another time.”
Maïa: “Cool! Okay!”
Julian: “You’re playing in November in the Botanique, right? Looking forward to seeing you live. Thanks!”
Maïa: “Yeah!”
Maïa: “Everything over there is a little cartoon, everything is cute …”
Julian: “And it’s good for the tourists that don’t speak Japanese: everything is so visual, so everybody will understand.”
Maïa: “I have a million hard drives of videos and photos. I had actually shot a little tour documentary video. I was almost done editing, and then my hard drive broke. I lost everything.”
Julian: “No back-up?”
Maïa: “I had a back-up of the raw video, but the project itself – the montage – was gone. Horrible. I tried to get it fixed, but there was no way I was going to get the video back. But: Japan is endlessly inspiring.”
Julian: “Do you also speak a little Japanese?”
Maïa: “Some phrases, and my pronunciation is very good, so I can pretend that I do speak Japanese. But, no. I had learned a little when I was a kid. I had a Japanese neighbour who would babysit me, and teach me a little bit. But you really have to work on it, constantly. It’s not one of those languages that sticks. My grandmother goes once a year, and I took advantage.”
Julian: “Very nice talking to you. I haven’t even asked all my questions. Another time.”
Maïa: “Cool! Okay!”
Julian: “You’re playing in November in the Botanique, right? Looking forward to seeing you live. Thanks!”
Maïa: “Yeah!”
Julian De Backer
Met onze speciale dank aan fotografen Hayden Miller ©, Roberto Silva Ortiz © en Shervin Lainez © voor hun foto's.