Luna creciente

Waxing Moon begins with a whisper that gradually fills with nuances, as if the song itself were breathing before unfolding its melody. There's something in its structure that doesn't follow the straightest path: the arrangements shift between layers of strings and percussion that don't fit into a common time signature, yet ultimately feel inevitable. The voice of Natalia Lafourcade floats above this weave, as if each note were a watercolor stroke that fades and reappears. It's not a song you listen to in one go; it demands patience, like those moments when the moon peeks through the clouds and you find yourself staring without blinking.

They recorded it in the autumn of 2024 at Sony Music Mexico studios, but the process wasn't cold or calculated. They worked with analog tape for three weeks, with eighteen musicians playing live around her, without last-minute digital corrections. The goal was to capture that spark that only arises when everything flows without filters: the mistakes, the spontaneous adjustments, the sound of instruments resonating in the same space. Lafourcade and Adán Jodorowsky —who had already joined forces on their previous album— were seeking more than a polished recording; they wanted the album to sound as if it had been composed in the moment, without intermediaries. And in Waxing Moon, that method is evident: the song doesn't sound like a studio product, but like an instant captured between laughter and glances of complicity.