Carolina Durante: How to survive an explosive tour that puts you on top
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Diego Ibáñez (Madrid, 28 years old), voice of Carolina Durante , a band that in recent months has stood out in terms of expansion and exposure among Spanish musical groups, has bought a safe. “It has a timer: I put my mobile in for six hours, I close it, and I can only look in it twice a day,” he explains. And he repeats, between underlining, between proclamation and disbelief: “I have a safe for my mobile.”
—And you go six hours without looking at it?
—It's the goal! People see it as an achievement.
—Are you running away from him or is it disinterest?
— When Benzema said: “The Internet doesn’t exist”, I think that was the point. Nowadays, for many people, the Internet is more important than real life. I think it is winning out. And that is a problem.
On the other side of the table, the group's bassist, Martín Vallhonrat (Madrid, 32 years old), adds: “My life is not that different from what it was before. If I ignore the media, the networks, my life, in eight years, has not changed that much. The tours and such, yes, but the rest... it doesn't have a big influence on my life. When you put your mobile phone away for long periods of time, the world changes, man.”
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The line between the real world and the digital one has become a serious concern for the four members of this traditional punk pop band. And at first glance it makes sense that a group so inclined to retro, with one foot in 2025 and the other in the Nikis, looks with suspicion at the most questionable habit of its minors . It is also true that in recent months - since, on October 25, Carolina Durante presented her third album, Elige tu propia aventura, and embarked on a tour of Spain that ends this Friday in Madrid with a packed Movistar Arena - they have been more on the lips (and hands) of networks and media than ever.
They have been criticized for things they have said, such as when, at the end of January, Ibáñez made a couple of jokes about Getafe in a podcast and X assumed he wasn't joking. Things that have nothing to do with them have also been criticized, such as the pogos at their concerts. They have been criticized for hiding the participation of Rosalía, Ibáñez's sister-in-law, in one of the songs . They have been labeled in a thousand ways: music for cayetanos, happy music for sad people , music for nihilists.
—I feel optimistic about my life —says Ibáñez.
—And with the world?
—No way.
Carolina Durante has finally entered the world of celebrities, when one loses control of one's own image and the ground disappears from under one's feet. They've been playing for a while, but until now they were a group to see live (in 2019, when they signed with Universal, they had been performing for two years and had accumulated eight songs: a 22-minute opus ). Elige tu propia aventura is the first album that allows you to connect with the band from home.
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Ibáñez: Just because of the way it is sung. It is softer, less hooligan, less aggressive.
Mario del Valle, guitar: Let's say the other one is more geared towards partying, faster. It's more made to get you ready for the concert.
Vallhonrat: The production is more carefully done. There was an intention to make an album that serves as an individual artifact, you know? So that it's not like, “Oh, look at this album, I can't wait to hear it live.”
The world of celebrities is not a friendly place, even for a band of such loyal followers. Those present at the table (Ibáñez and Vallhonrat, the most talkative; Del Valle and the drummer Juan Pedrayes, who listens solemnly but does not participate) have done the same as so many people overwhelmed by social media and headlines: they stop paying attention to them. “My mother sends it to me,” says Ibáñez. Only notable affronts are sent to the WhatsApp group they share. Ibáñez manages the group’s social media: his disconnections are few and far between. After months of interviews, they even struggle with the most obvious labels.
Are you, as so many critics say, an indie band? Ibáñez: “We have never been.” Vallhonrat: “We are neither indie as a musical genre nor are we indie in the way we have worked. Our first album is out with a major label .” OK. Are you a left-wing band? Ibáñez snorts: “This thing about being left-wing, there is a point that is like... to be left-wing you have to think this, this, this, this, and this. The left-wing pack . And if you don't comply with one of those premises, you're out.” Has it happened to him? Pause. “No, but it happens to a lot of people. Suddenly he says something and that's it… 'Facha, facha, facha.'” Del Valle: “That hermetic dogma goes against there being a discourse and a real conversation both with your own people and with the people you don't agree with. That dialogue no longer exists.” Vallhonrat, spokesperson for the group's obsession: “The algorithm…”
—Your lyrics are quite left-wing. They speak about homophobia, racism, classism with sensitivity.
—There are things that I don't think are leftist, they seem obvious to me —says Ibáñez.
And here we are. At this table, nothing that comes out of a mobile phone is accepted as reality. What is there outside the mobile phone? Vallhonrat: “I have gone through some crazy times of being hooked. If I turn off Instagram, I spend hours playing fucking chess. It is a matter of pure escapism. You always find an excuse, if it is not YouTube it is something else.” And he adds: “It is escapism from not managing boredom.”
—Are you not bored now?
—I get bored to death, of course, but I try to be bored. Boredom is one of the great triggers of creativity and connection with people. It forces you to live your time in some way. Reading, painting…
Ibáñez: …facing your moves.
Del Valle: I'm looking for quality boredom. Watching shit on YouTube isn't the same as putting on a record and letting yourself get carried away by its flavour. When you're stuck with a thousand pieces of shit, you don't have time to stop.
Vallhonrat: What artists call the fertile void. That moment when you say to yourself, “What am I doing?” When you’re making an album, sometimes you meet up to rehearse and nothing comes out, but that’s in itself.
Ibáñez: Go fishing, David Lynch said. Watching them come, going to rehearse to see what can come out, playing notes.
Vallhonrat: There are days when it's a disaster and you come out saying "God, what a piece of shit," or you rehearse for three hours and two and a half hours are shit and the last half hour seems like something that seems okay. But for that you need time. To get bored.
EL PAÍS