Julià Picornell: “It wouldn't make sense for us to have lost our fighting spirit: we're not here to make money.”

PalmWith the first album, Old songs, urgent songs, above all they had a good time. With the second, On land they stop, it seemed the jokes were over: it was time to get down to business, to focus on the music. And now, as Ánimos Parrec is about to release his third album in three years, Flowery Path, say they've been able to reach an average. "With this one we've been craftsmen, a little bit of work every day and with the best attitude possible," sums up Julià Picornell, singer and lyricist of the group that both elicits a hearty laugh at anything and reflects, with some concern, on the crisis of traditional values. Likewise his group.

"Ánimos Parrec / are just four holograms / remotely controlled / by software engineers [...] And this latest album is the worst of all / you can tell the lyrics are written by a robot." This is what you sing in 'Have they ever told you that the Earth is flat?', one of the tracks on Flowery path. So, first of all, are you Julià Picornell or a hologram?

— [Laughs] We like to look at current events from this perspective, from a humorous perspective. On the first album we dedicated a song to our brothers-in-law, who really pissed us off, and now we're pissed off by all this misinformation and the fake newsJournalists know better than we do that having to worry all day long about whether something's true or not is very tiresome. And the topic came out of me like an explosion of rage.

But well-channeled anger: you invite laughter from all this.

— If that's not the case, the complaint becomes very burdensome. Humor means you don't have to explicitly take a position and say "this is right" or "this is wrong." You expose it, and everyone draws their own conclusions.

And in Flowery path I played with that a lot: it's a record that points out many things without underlining any of them.

— On the first album, perhaps, everything was more obvious, and here there's a symbolic, or poetic, tone. Except for this song you mentioned, which is more explicit, everything else uses more metaphors and parables to lead toward a lesson or a narrative. In any case, it wouldn't make any sense for us to have lost our fighting spirit: we're not here to make money.

Doesn't filing a complaint generate benefits?

— You reach the general public with pop and white music, and that's how it is. Now, I believe that everyone should be true to themselves. If you want to make a popular song, if you want to talk about certain things, you're free to do so, and I have nothing to say. Life is a self-service And we have the right to choose. Not only as consumers, but also as creators.

In this album, in any case, there's a certain nostalgia for times gone by, for characters and ways of doing things from the past. Has it become more nostalgic, perhaps?

— Maybe your perception and the things each person takes from a song are valid, but I would define myself as anti-nostalgic [laughs]. When I was younger, I was more so, but now I don't think so at all, that things used to be better. I do think the album exalts certain values that are somewhat marginalized today, but that doesn't mean they were better a while ago.

How for example?

— Look, if you listen to "Joan Salvaje" [the album's opening track], there's a superficial story about a man who cures ills and one day disappears, and they say that when he returns, no one will recognize him. And more than a person, I think Joan Salvaje is a human quality we all carry within us. He's a tribute to values that are out of favor these days. He's kind, true, honest, upright, and consistent. How many people do you know who have integrity right now? And you either are that, or you're not.

And how would you say people are today?

— We all sell ourselves for nothing. And nothing happens if there are hypocritical or materialistic people around us. Before, people lived with few things, and that's why what you had wasn't important: what defined you was who you were, the relationships you established with the people around you. And we've lost this, and it's made us, as a collective, lost, because as individuals, we're also there. We no longer need the tribe to survive; we can lock ourselves in our houses, watch television and our phones, and do little else.

And music is a way out of this, isn't it?

— Yes, I want to make songs that help you see some light if you lift your head. I think each song on this album is like a map that won't tell you how to get anywhere, but it can help you find your way in the world, if you do your part. And I say all this without any preaching: I make the songs as maps for myself, too.

In the title track of the album he updates the famous poem by Josep Maria Llompart, Flowery PathInstead of plant names, he mentions asbestos cement, concrete, artificial grass, pallet sofas, and solar panels. Where did this idea come from?

— It arose from one of my walks through Foravila, which I usually take after I've finished work: I enjoy seeing how the flora and fauna change with the seasons. But one day, while I was strolling, I thought of Llompart's poem, which I really like, but which I felt had nothing to do with what was in front of me. The plants and flowers were purely residual elements, so I made a mental list of everything in front of me. When I got home, the song had made itself. No explanations are necessary; just put the poem and the song side by side and you'll understand everything.

We've talked about similarities with your previous albums, but there are also some differences: there are songs that will surprise your fans, like your latest, "Anecdote of a Movie." Is this your most free-spirited album to date?

— The impact we've had and the repercussion we've achieved gave us courage, more than responsibility or pressure, and that's why we've let go of obstacles and allowed ourselves to experiment more in the studio. We couldn't make this album when we started; it's like making chairs: if you start as a carpenter, the first day you won't just make a chair, but little by little you'll learn. It's the same with music, and you keep doing and improving. A baker can't live off the good bread he made yesterday: he has to make it again every day.