The title caught our attention even before listening to the album: it's more concrete, it's not the same to put a record The island than Your criminal record...

I have made a conscious exercise to collect words from other areas. Here we have spoken a number of words, which seemed to me to be a snake to use. Since it was an island, I had a desire to use another language, to keep words elsewhere.

Has the social climate caused it?

The search has been personal, but it is true that you can now make a letter such as that of disarmament. A light song, saying “where I had the weapons and the holes I handed over…”. I had vertigo with that song, but otherwise I didn't. It has had to do with my path: from the beginning I have used many metaphors, both with nature and with other elements, for me they are always very serious.

In Berria, you told Juan Luis Zabala that the word now has the greatest importance. I remember a few years ago you prioritized the melody…

I attach great importance to music, but for me it's just a song that I do with guitar, voice and words. I look in that situation, in that situation I take for granted. And in that state, I realize that I don't turn around the melody. The song is something like this -- you make the lyrics, you make the melody, and when it really composes, it suddenly makes "klak"; and you don't see where they separate each other. There are others that, although you see them well, you can imagine with another letter. But for me that's what's going to stick to that melody. And then words have their importance.

Of course, I understand that in other styles this is not the case, I also like groups that play songs with two sentences, that say everything with instruments.

What sound did you have in your head when you entered the studio?

When I start making the album, I don't hear any music. It seems that the idea you have you are going to find in what you hear; Karlos Osinaga Tx says many times that when people are going to record it has a record that somehow uses as a production model. I never. On this album I had the feeling that the songs were more linear, less guitars – although sometimes there are five and six guitars. Then I passed on to Javi Manterola from the beginning. I knew I was going to do some control. We prepared a neutral, quiet base, and then we could enter Ager Insunza, Ander Mujika, Javi himself... I always hear those collaborations in the studio for the first time, and in this case, I think Javi has played a lot on the record, his guitar has given him a lot. Orfidentala, for example, was a piano song, which suddenly came up, started making the riff and turned. But there's no concrete search for sound, it could have been otherwise.

There are mirror games with your previous jobs. Here he mentions Archimedes, the “Diogenes Syndrome” is once again the island…

Coincidentally, this scholarly tone [laughs] happened.

Let's talk about the disc fauna. The mention of “The Frightened Animal” reminded me of something Nacho Vegas said at the end of The Great Joke.

I like Vegas a lot, I've heard a lot and if what you hear influences you, it can be a reference. Their round songs seem to me to be the most rounded of all. Now in Spain there is a level of Christ in letters, Mr. Chinarro and…

While I was writing the album, one said to me: “We went to eat a place and on the table next door they were talking about which animal would appear on your album this time.” Answer: “This time I am an animal.” I've been spinning around that a lot.

Deer have also given much to talk about…

I always say that the most amazing things really happen. You feel like a Sigur Ros video when you cross a deer on the road. For once in the car of the homeless and it happened to us, he looked, [laughed].

To continue with the issue of animals: The manso has seemed special to me, it's not the first duo you do, but it has something ...

Eneko Mobydick will also have something to do with it. It is a deconstructed song, we played two or three ways in the essays: the first was very guitarist and slow, in the model phase that he called “Mark Lanegan”. But as we advanced with the album, we saw that there were a lot of songs with guitars; and then we decided to empty it. And all of a sudden, Mariano was doing something behind the piano and we left that in front of him. You often make these kinds of decisions for doing something different. With this emptying you hear a lot of batteries and I think Eneko has given him the roll of Christ.

You had a record exchange at the 2013 Durango Fair. How did the idea of making this song together come about?

We didn't know each other before, even though I had seen it personally. Then he called me himself to make a Usopop version of Johnny Cash and… eventually making a record is an excuse. When I go to look back, I think about the number of people that have touched my records, it makes me illusion, that's there, but then you just touch. Eneko was also excited, he told me he called my mother, telling me that he was “as if I had been called from Athletic” [laughs].

The importance you give to musicians who work with you is also reflected in how you present them at concerts: He usually says “Anari gara.”

It was the first time I had escaped. I think we had come from going to Barcelona and they always ask you, “Are you from the Anari band?” I think when I came back from one of those things, I began to say, “Good night, we’re Anari.” But it's true: not only sentimentally, but also artistically, we're a band. From the point of view of production, normally in the works of soloists the voice is usually much higher, there are people who tell me that my records are uncomfortable because you hear too much band… We also produce as a band, we stain it live.

The writer Rafael Chirbes, who was in Donostia-San Sebastian a couple of years ago, said that he himself writes novels to remove the clay that accumulates for living. Why does Anari make songs?

I was reading Juxtu On the shore before I started writing this album and last week [mid-June] I picked it up again. This book seems terrible to me. On each album, I write about myself and my moment, and I don't get to write about a good party afternoon. For example, Otzanak is an attempt to explain that when you choose something or someone else you leave everything else and you have to confirm that choice; it's a song about fidelity. The measured fall of dreams speaks of what you expected of you… I think they are very explicit. Although it may be a topic, we are all quite similar to all of our contradictions. And I look for contradictions in songs, and I use them as a method. I try to look at things on the other side, and that's a great source for writing.

Then you can name them. For example, when you've had something, when you don't have good memories, what do you call that? Somewhere you see Diogenes syndrome and you tell yourself that that's "Diogenes syndrome, but like in the head, why do I keep these things?" They do not serve me at all.” So I do the letters.

Do you feel the public's empathy? At the concert you did in May in Donostia, the audience was very hot…

I feel like people come to sing, what we do happens inside. The performance concerts have been held between two and three weeks, and people knew the lyrics of all the songs. Someone told me, "You'll have to make a new record."

I have the impression that your audience has been creating in some way the pursuit of your career. Is that how you live?

My audience has changed, before I had listeners coming from musical references, and lately, I would say many listeners from letters have arrived. I am aware of that. Inside Bidehuts we talk a lot about the albums being sold little, and I always tell Txapi that a person who listens to Lisabö downloads 40 records, including Lisabö. They love music. On the contrary, a kind of Anari listener buys fewer albums a year, but buys them, and they want to have the lyrics, and -- it's a nice thing.