AN EXTRAORDINARY STORY: An Interview with Gabriel Agudo

 

Gabriel Agudo is a distinctive figure on the Argentine progressive rock scene. A singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and producer, he first came to prominence with the band Bad Dreams, before embarking on a solo career that would lead him to work with some of the leading international names in progressive rock. He has released two solo albums to date, New Life (2020) and Tales & Thunders (2023), and is currently preparing his third solo album, scheduled for release in 2027.

Agudo's musical background is deeply rooted in the progressive and symphonic rock of the 1970s and 1980s, with bands such as Yes, Genesis, Pink Floyd, King Crimson, Camel, and Marillion among his major influences. His musical interests also extend to hard rock acts such as Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Deep Purple. Throughout his career, he has explored jazz-rock, blues, soul, and funk. These diverse influences helped shape a vocal style that owes less to the conventional Argentine rock tradition than to the Anglo-American school of progressive rock. Having attended an Irish school from an early age, Agudo developed a native-like command of English. This linguistic and phonetic advantage helped him overcome cultural barriers and perform on equal footing with English-speaking bands—something that has historically been a significant challenge for musicians from Latin America.

The Turning Point: The Birth of a Solo Artist

Gabriel Agudo's departure from Bad Dreams in late 2017 did not mark the end of a chapter so much as the beginning of his consolidation as an independent international artist. Having reached artistic maturity on the progressive rock circuit and performed on international stages with his former band, Agudo suddenly found himself facing an uncertain future: alone, without a band, but carrying a wealth of experience and musical knowledge.

Rather than allowing the challenges of independence to overwhelm him, he turned this pivotal moment into creative fuel. Encouraged by his close friend René Bosc, he spent several months in France, stepping back from his previous musical identity to define his own artistic voice. This restorative period abroad gave rise to his acclaimed solo debut, New Life (2020), a deeply progressive and experimental album conceived as a journey through different stages of spiritual development.

Demonstrating his ability to attract leading figures from the genre, Gabriel assembled an impressive international cast of musicians, including Steve Rothery of Marillion, Clive Nolan of Pendragon and Arena, Dave Kerzner, and Fernando Perdomo. The album also featured the orchestral contributions of Hélène Collerette, first violinist with Radio France. More than a declaration of his new artistic chapter, New Life opened doors to some of the world's most demanding music markets, achieving immediate commercial and critical success in Japan, Europe, and the United States.

Consolidation and Maturity: The Power of Tales & Thunders

The natural evolution of Agudo's solo journey took shape in his second album, Tales & Thunders. Whereas his debut was an introspective journey with a distinctly 1970s sensibility, this more mature release revealed a stronger, more contemporary, and more eclectic side of the artist. Drawing on his metal roots—influenced by giants such as Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden—he blended heavier sounds with ethnic textures and elements of the soul music that had shaped an earlier chapter of his career.

The album is a testament to resilience, exploring themes ranging from major milestones in human history to deeply personal experiences of healing and transformation. Agudo reaffirmed his role as a songwriter while taking his independent approach to a new level: he composed all the arrangements, recorded multiple instruments, and oversaw the painstaking processes of production, mixing, and mastering.

Once again, some of the leading names in progressive rock joined him, including virtuoso keyboardist Derek Sherinian (formerly of Dream Theater), guitarist Dave Foster (of Big Big Train and the Steve Rothery Band), and Steve Rothery himself, whose unmistakable guitar work further enhanced the record. The result cemented Agudo's distinctive sound and strengthened his position on the international progressive rock scene.

The Creative Present: Looking Ahead to Chapter Three

Far from resting on his laurels, Gabriel Agudo is currently immersed in writing and producing his next studio album. For this new release, the singer and multi-instrumentalist has decided to return decisively to his heaviest musical roots, embracing a powerful rock approach and an unyielding sound.

Moving away from the autobiographical emphasis of his previous albums, Agudo is developing this record around what drives him most at this stage of his career: the sheer joy of musical experimentation. The project reflects his conviction that artistic freedom knows no boundaries.

Other Projects

One of the most compelling turns in Gabriel's career unfolded after he left Bad Dreams. He began collaborating with Steve Rothery, Marillion’s longtime guitarist, serving as the lead vocalist for the Steve Rothery Band during its South American tour dates.

He also joined In Continuum, a project led by Dave Kerzner, alongside stellar musicians such as Marco Minnemann, Matt Dorsey, and Randy McStine, as well as other highly regarded guests from the progressive rock world.

Another major milestone on Agudo's calendar is his confirmed participation in the 2027 edition of Cruise to the Edge. This is no small feat: Cruise to the Edge, the premier progressive rock festival at sea, is a literal mecca for fans of the genre worldwide. What makes Agudo's participation particularly noteworthy is that he has become one of the very few Argentine and Latin American musicians to grace these prestigious stages not just once, but multiple times. He has shared dressing rooms, jam sessions, and official lineups with the living legends who defined the genre.

This international journey is far from over. Agudo is officially confirmed for the 2027 voyage, setting sail from Miami in April aboard the Norwegian Jewel. His ongoing presence further cements his standing among the elite artists of the international progressive rock circuit. The latest announcements and official updates can be found on the Cruise to the Edge 2027 website.

Agudo's international schedule is equally demanding before he sets sail. The Argentine artist is also slated to perform at the prestigious ProgStock 2026 festival in the northeastern United States, taking place October 8–10 at the Williams Center in Rutherford, New Jersey, just outside New York City.

At the festival's tenth-anniversary edition, Gabriel is set to perform on Saturday, October 10, accompanied by none other than Bill Hubauer of the Neal Morse Band. He will share the bill with major acts and artists including Eddie Jobson's U.K. Revisited, Spock's Beard, and IZZ. Full lineup details and passes for in-person attendance or streaming are available on the official ProgStock Festival website.

THE INTERVIEW

How did you first get into music?

My home was always filled with music because my father was a tango singer who never quite pursued his ambitions professionally. As a result, tango is in my blood simply because I listened to it constantly as a child. In fact, I'd love to record a tango album or sing tango at some point in my life.

My mother, on the other hand, loved international music, so my earliest exposure to that world came through The Beatles in 1967. Their records were played on a loop at home. One of my mother's closest friends lived upstairs, and her son, Eduardo, played guitar and was also a massive Beatles fan. I used to hang out in his room all the time just to watch him play. That was the exact moment I felt completely captivated by music.

Did you start out on guitar?

Yes. I started taking guitar lessons when I was about nine, and later I studied harmony and composition on the piano. After that, I developed as a musician by playing in bands. It happened organically during my school years, when classmates would get together and jam.

Listening to records must have played a part, too, right?

Absolutely. I grew up in Caballito, a neighborhood in Buenos Aires where Rivadavia Park was a major hub for music culture. We would meet there to trade records. You could run into musicians and rock fans of every stripe.

I'd been going there since I was very young, and that's where I discovered cornerstone albums like Yes's Close to the Edge, early Genesis records, and Argentine rock icons like Pescado Rabioso and Charly García, alongside all the great bands of the 1970s.

Meanwhile, I kept studying music independently. I quickly realized I had a natural aptitude for singing and a sharp musical memory—I could pick up melodies and lyrics effortlessly. But it wasn't until I was fifteen that I realized I could truly develop as a singer alongside my instrumental skills.

What was it about progressive rock that captivated you?

When I first heard Close to the Edge, it felt as though my brain had shattered into a thousand pieces!

I already loved classical music because my grandfather listened to it constantly at home—Italian tenors and complex composers like Prokofiev. But when I first heard Close to the Edge, I couldn't process it at first. They were blending so many different styles and structural forms. It was an immense palette of colors: rock, soul, blues, classical music, and so much more. It was mind-blowing.

From Yes, I transitioned to early Genesis with Peter Gabriel, discovering a more intricate form of progressive rock that still anchored itself in strong song structures. Naturally, I then dove headfirst into King Crimson and Jethro Tull.

You were absorbing everything you could find...

Precisely. When you begin exploring music, you try to consume as much as possible—you become a sponge.

Those were the years of the military dictatorship in Argentina, when a great deal of music was banned. Among young people, that restriction created an electric sense of urgency around discovery. We found ways to gather with friends, track down rare records, and listen to them in secret.

What fascinated me about progressive rock was that it was an infinite ocean of possibilities—a vast palette encompassing every conceivable style. I was captivated by how all those disparate elements fused together. The final result was astonishing, and I loved analyzing how each band engineered its own unique formula.

The sheer originality of that music was extraordinary. I thank God I was alive when the pioneers of progressive rock were mapping out those uncharted waters.

And you eventually ended up playing with some of the musicians whose posters hung on your bedroom walls...

Yes, it's surreal. When I first started playing with Steve Rothery, I told him that as a kid, I had Marillion posters taped to my bedroom wall right next to pictures of David Gilmour, Steve Hackett, and Peter Gabriel.

Back then, we used to stick posters up with Scotch tape. Nobody talks about that teenage ritual anymore, but it meant the world to us! (laughs)

One of those posters featured Rothery himself, who was an absolute hero of mine. At the time, I was also obsessed with the Argentine guitarist David Lebón—whom I've always adored—alongside Luis Alberto Spinetta.

Sharing a stage with those musicians and getting to know them as peers has been one of life's greatest gifts. I feel deeply honored and profoundly grateful.

Did you attend a conservatory, or did you study privately?

I studied with private teachers and was largely self-taught. I never attended a conservatory or pursued formal academic training. Instead, I picked up knowledge from various mentors and later through instructional videos, masterclasses, and hands-on experience.

Of course, there was no internet back then, so we learned the hard way: by playing with other people and constantly refining our instrumental technique and vocal delivery.

Did your family expect you to pursue a conventional career alongside music?

Well, I studied law and qualified as an attorney. For a while, I balanced law with my musical pursuits, but over time I realized practicing law wasn't my true calling. So I gradually transitioned entirely to music, fully aware that making a living from it in Argentina would be an uphill battle.

Building a professional career in the arts is generally tough. Things have shifted considerably, but when I started playing live in the 1980s, Argentina had a much more vibrant cultural underground. The 1990s brought an explosion of live venues—particularly pubs and intimate theaters. The landscape changed dramatically in the 2000s, though today it feels like live music culture is staging a major revival.

Still, there's always been this lingering stigma that choosing art means choosing an unnecessarily harsh path, especially financially. I've worked plenty of other jobs along the way to support my creative ambitions.

Which band were you playing with in the early 1990s?

For many years, I fronted a band called Voodoo Child. By that point, I had shifted away from progressive rock and immersed myself fully in soul, funk, and blues.

I've always had a profound love for Black American music, tracing all the way back to Robert Johnson. I was transfixed by those genres and threw myself into them heart and soul. However, it was a tough sell in Argentina at the time. Very few people were tuned into those sounds. Soul and funk were confined to a handful of niche venues, and while there were blues clubs—particularly in the western suburbs of Buenos Aires—soul and funk were far from mainstream.

With Voodoo Child, we recorded two albums and played countless live shows. We wrote original material, with me handling the lyrics and melodies while the band worked out the arrangements collectively. The songs were entirely in Spanish.

What happened next?

We were on the verge of signing a major recording contract with Universal. At the time, two bands were shortlisted for the deal: us and an argentinian band Bersuit Vergarabat. Then Universal merged with Polygram, and Bersuit was ultimately chosen for the spot.

It was a devastating blow. I had been fighting tooth and nail to carve out a professional music career for years, and just when the breakthrough seemed within reach, everything dissolved. I ended up walking away from the professional music scene for five full years.

I kept playing at home, but I was utterly burnt out and exhausted from grinding away on the underground circuit only to see our big break vanish at the eleventh hour.

That hiatus lasted until my friend Marcelo Bordoli, a saxophonist, mentioned that a group of musicians were playing Genesis covers and desperately needed a singer. I was living in Pilar at the time, and that's where they were based as well. Marcelo rehearsed in the drummer's studio space.

Initially, I turned the offer down because the bitterness of my past experience was still raw. But eventually, I gave in, went to the audition, and got the gig.

We started performing Genesis tribute shows. Our repertoire leaned less on the early Gabriel-era epics and more on the Phil Collins years, though we did sprinkle in a few Peter Gabriel-era tracks.

Incredibly, the project snowballed. We quickly graduated from small clubs to headlining the prestigious Teatro Coliseo. From there, we expanded across the country, playing major theaters in Mendoza, Rosario, and other key Argentine cities, as well as touring Chile and beyond.

The apex of that journey was playing at Luna Park Stadium alongside conductor Ángel Mahler and a full symphony orchestra. We performed stunning arrangements crafted by the maestro Ángel Mahler, who sadly passed away recently. He was an extraordinary musician and a magnificent human being.

You reached the pinnacle of the tribute-band circuit...

You could say that. But right at that peak, I called a band meeting and announced that I no longer wanted to stay restricted to tribute material.

First of all, Genesis's music is built on mathematical precision, and what we were doing was our own interpretive take on it. We weren't aiming to be a note-for-note carbon copy like tribute acts such as Rael or Genetics.

We allowed ourselves structural and interpretive freedom. But anyone who loves Genesis—and I am chief among them—knows how fiercely protective their fanbase is. They expect absolute fidelity to every minute detail.

I felt we had matured enough as a unit to write our own material. And because I had the advantage of learning English from childhood at an Irish school, I knew I could write lyrics in English with confidence.

A complete pivot in direction...

Exactly. The rest of the guys thought I was out of my mind, warning me that releasing original progressive rock in English from Argentina was professional suicide.

But I was unwavering in my conviction. So we teamed up with Bad Dreams' keyboardist and began work on the compositions that would become Apocalypse of the Mercy, the band's debut album.

To our surprise, that record started making waves in markets we never dreamed of cracking—Japan, Europe, and the United States. The band gained organic traction through original music, opening doors for tours across Central America, South America, and the U.S.

We were invited multiple times to perform on Cruise to the Edge, one of the premier global progressive rock festivals.

Unfortunately, as is so often the case with bands, internal friction caught up with us after our third album. Egos ultimately toxicify and fracture groups from within. Eventually, the rest of the group decided they wanted to move forward without me.

Once again, I was cast into an uncertain future—much like I felt after my soul band collapsed years prior. I had experience and pedigree, sure, but I was entirely on my own, with no bandmates and no safety net.

I took some necessary time off to soul-search and figure out my next move.

Right around that period, Steve Rothery was mapping out South American dates and needed a vocalist capable of handling Fish-era Marillion material. He reached out to me, and I jumped at the challenge.

It must have been daunting stepping into those shoes...

As I mentioned earlier, I was suddenly sharing a stage with a guy who used to live on my bedroom wall as a poster! Naturally, the stakes—and the scrutiny—were astronomical.

Playing in the major leagues, so to speak...

Let's call it the Premier League! (laughs)

It was intense. I had a very tight window to learn Fish's sprawling lyric sheets, subtle vocal inflections, theatrical phrasing, and precise pronunciation. Those nuances are sacred in progressive rock. You can't just wing it when you're standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a guitar icon like Steve Rothery.

I think I held my own on that run.

During that transitional phase, Dave Kerzner also reached out to me. He's a close friend and a prominent figure in the American prog scene, known for his work as a keyboardist and songwriter in Sound of Contact (fronted by Phil Collins's son, Simon Collins).

Dave was preparing for a special performance on Cruise to the Edge featuring an all-star guest lineup, including the singer and bassist from Yes, Steve Rothery, John Wesley, Randy McStine (currently with Porcupine Tree), Durga Mc Broom, Harry Waters (Roger's son) and other prog heavyweights.

He brought me in for a Pink Floyd tribute set, where he was also showcasing some of his solo material. Soon after, he asked me to sing lead vocals on select Pink Floyd and Sound of Contact pieces with him.

That led to an invitation to join In Continuum, the American progressive rock outfit carrying forward the torch of Sound of Contact. I didn't hesitate for a second—I said yes. That marked the beginning of multiple trips to the U.S. to record on the band's first and second albums, followed by live dates across several American cities.

Was that when your solo career officially kicked off?

I had notebooks full of song ideas and a burning desire to launch a solo project, but nothing concrete yet.

Thanks to the backing of incredible friends—including Clive Nolan, Steve Rothery, and above all, René Bosc—I was able to take the plunge. René is a dear friend and former director at Radio France International who holds massive weight in the Parisian classical music sphere.

I spent several months living in France, workshop-ing and refining the ideas I'd been hoarding for years. That immersive experience became the incubator for my debut solo album, New Life.

Did you bring in guest artists for the recording?

Yes. I was incredibly fortunate to collaborate with world-class guests, including Steve Rothery, Dave Kerzner, Clive Nolan, and the sensational American virtuoso Fernando Perdomo.

René Bosc contributed as well, alongside his wife, Hélène Collerette, the principal first violinist of Radio France.

To my delight, the album struck a chord, selling exceptionally well in Japan, Europe, and the United States. Everything unfolded organically; none of it was part of a rigid master plan.

Doors opened in Europe, and I found myself connecting with heavyweight musicians eager to collaborate, including members of the Neal Morse Band (Bill Hubauer, Randy George, and Eric Gillette), as well as European talents like drummer Jimmy Pallagrosi.

What keeps your drive alive?

Honestly, I don't really know. When I look back at the trajectory—I'm 59 now, so I'm certainly not twenty or thirty anymore, though I still feel like a kid inside—the journey amazes me.

Opportunities arose organically, and here I am. For better or worse, I've built a substantial catalog and poured my soul into making music.

Fortunately, the fans have been the absolute bedrock of my solo career, backing both my first and second albums. Crowdfunding and the direct-to-fan model pioneered by Marillion decades ago have fundamentally rewritten the rules for independent artists.

Today, loyal listeners are an essential lifeline for independent musicians operating outside the rigid machinations of major record labels or industry power brokers.

How does that dynamic function in the streaming era?

Digital platforms can be brutal because consumer culture has shifted toward expecting music for free.

That makes survival intensely difficult for artists who depend on their craft to put food on the table. Historically, physical record sales were a primary revenue stream; today, live performance has taken over that role. Even then, you experience intense boom-and-bust cycles—months packed with back-to-back shows followed by dry spells.

You also launched a tribute project dedicated to Peter Gabriel's catalog...

I've always harbored a deep love for Peter Gabriel's solo work. So, alongside Sergio Da Rosa (the original drummer of Bad Dreams), I formed Monkey, a band rounded out by phenomenal Argentine musicians.

We dive deep into Gabriel's solo discography, focusing on his iconic eras. Out of pure respect for the artist, we steer clear of his most recent studio releases.

On top of that, I was approached by a stellar group of musician friends from Mendoza Argentina to front a Phil Collins tribute project called Collins Hits. It's proving to be an exhilarating vocal challenge, and momentum is building nicely.

Returning to your solo albums, you tackle profound themes like freedom, karma, love, and the cosmos. Where did that fascination come from?

While I was conceptualizing my debut album, I was navigating an intensely painful spiritual crucible brought on by my mother's illness. She suffered from Alzheimer's for a decade—a devastating ordeal for her and everyone who loved her.

She passed away shortly before the record dropped. Simultaneously, I was processing the wreckage of my departure from Bad Dreams and the profound instability that follows the dissolution of a long-term band.

It's a heavy period because artistic breakups invariably mean losing friendships, too.

All of that internal turbulence forced me inward, sparking a genuine spiritual awakening. That's why I titled the album New Life. I wrote the lyrics introspectively, processing my raw reality in real-time.

The album artwork features a bird symbolizing liberation, with an internal map charting distinct phases of spiritual evolution. I wanted to map out those emotional stages from my own lens, exactly as I lived them.

The journey touches on liberation, karma, the paralyzing fear of rejection, and existential rebirth.

So, the debut was approached through a deeply spiritual filter. Sonically, it was experimental and progressive because I was actively searching for my authentic voice—willing to take far greater risks than I had within Bad Dreams.

And how did that sonic quest evolve on your sophomore record?

Heavy metal and aggressive rock have always been part of my core DNA. I've been a die-hard fan of metal royalty like Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden for decades, so I decided to inject that heaviness directly into Tales & Thunders.

While my debut wears its 1970s aesthetic proudly on its sleeve, the second album is modern, muscular, and aggressive, while still paying homage to my soul-music background. It also incorporates global ethnic textures, inspired by historical themes I was researching at the time.

That's why I named the record Tales & Thunders. It draws inspiration from monumental myths and historical milestones that have captivated us since childhood—like humanity's first steps on the Moon or the Voyager deep-space missions. It also confronts raw human realities like divorce—something I've navigated firsthand—and the complex emotional weight of pulling the plug on a relationship.

I explored mortality through the lens of Romeo and Juliet in a track featuring Steve Rothery, and ventured into indigenous shamanism and Sioux culture as well.

Quite an eclectic balancing act...

Totally. None of it was premeditated; it all surfaced organically.

I was blessed to have heavy-hitter guests on board. Dave Foster laid down brilliant guitar work on a track, Derek Sherinian dropped a blistering keyboard solo, and Steve Rothery returned for another stellar cameo.

The production side was grueling because I took on almost everything myself: arrangements, recording, mixing, and mastering. Thankfully, my brother-in-arms Sergio Da Rosa stepped in to sanity-check the mixes and masters. When you get tunnel vision doing everything solo, you risk losing all objectivity.

It was an exhausting marathon, but equally therapeutic and rewarding. Self-producing and releasing independent music is an immense financial and emotional investment—it’s a relentless grind, both artistically and economically.

You've weathered deep personal storms—your mother's illness and passing, divorce, economic hardship, and even accidents. How do those scars manifest in your music?

Life throws hardships at all of us. The differentiator is resilience: the refusal to stop moving forward when the ground gives way beneath you.

As Nietzsche famously said, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. You emerge from the fire with a deeper appreciation for existence and a profound respect for the present moment.

You also realize that the craft isn't about feeding your ego; it's about building a meaningful body of work. As creators, we have to transcend our petty struggles, learn to let go, and rediscover the pure joy of making art.

The true magic lies in realizing that even after catastrophe, you have the power to rebuild, reinvent yourself, and start anew.

What is your read on the current progressive rock scene in Argentina?

I'm thrilled to witness its renaissance over the last few years. A wave of exceptionally talented young prog bands is emerging locally, and I've come across some jaw-dropping local musicians.

The upcoming generation possesses immense technical and compositional prowess. Argentina has historically been a fertile breeding ground for progressive music, so seeing the ecosystem roar back to life is fantastic.

I hold my fellow Argentine musicians in the highest regard. We have absolutely nothing to envy international acts for.

Mutual support among artists is essential if this momentum is going to last. We need to champion the genre, create more stages for it, and expand our reach. People need to realize that progressive rock is visceral, cinematic music that stretches the limits of imagination.

Who stands out as your ultimate vocal inspirations?

The pantheon of singers who shaped my musical DNA is vast: David Bowie, Peter Gabriel, Bruce Dickinson, Robert Plant, Otis Redding, and Buddy Guy among others. Each of them left an indelible mark on my style.

I'm a voracious listener; I love dissecting vocal mechanics, phrasing, and emotional delivery. You can glean lessons from every corner of the musical spectrum. Learning never stops, and humility is your greatest compass.

That exact philosophy inspired the cover art for New Life, where I'm depicted sitting inside a dark cave, gazing upward at a beam of light. The message is simple: we are perpetual students, capable of evolving every single day. The exact moment you assume you've mastered everything or hit your ceiling is the moment artistic growth dies. You have to keep that hunger alive.

As a vocalist, your instrument grows alongside your life experience. Emotions continuously bleed into the creative engine—not just in how you execute a vocal line, but in how you compose and arrange. Remaining plugged into that emotional current is vital.

Here's a classic songwriter question: What is one song by another artist that you genuinely wish you had written yourself?

There are countless masterworks, particularly in progressive rock, that I admire to no end. But if I had to pick one piece, it would be the first movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. To channel that level of depth, dramatic weight, stark simplicity, and absolute perfection... that would be the ultimate achievement.

And, naturally, Genesis's Supper's Ready.

It blows my mind how timeless music like that operates—every time you revisit it, new sonic textures and nuances reveal themselves. That's the ultimate hallmark of true greatness.

What is fueling your creative fire right now? What themes are you exploring in your upcoming work?

Right now, I'm leaning heavily back into a high-octane, guitar-driven rock sound. I'm revisiting my hardest-hitting roots and letting loose.

I'm currently stitching those heavier elements together in the studio. I write new material by visualizing cinematic narratives in my head and building lyrics around those mental scripts. Lyrically, I'm pivoting away from direct autobiography toward external storytelling. Of course, personal philosophy inevitably bleeds into the subtext because total objectivity doesn't exist in art, but I prefer constructing songs around imaginative external premises.

For instance, I recently finished a track called "Whispering Boy," which centers on meditation. My latest single explores soul reincarnation through the narrative of a spirit migrating across different bodies and faces, retaining its core identity across lifetimes.

I'm currently plotting a song inspired by the mindset of a vigilante, alongside a quirky concept piece told entirely through the eyes of a cat—exploring the world from an animal's perspective. These are the kinds of cinematic concepts that strike me out of nowhere.

Sometimes a melody hits me unannounced, so I scramble to record a voice memo and build an arrangement around it. Naturally, it's a meticulous process. Composition isn't instant gratification; it requires engineering a complete architectural structure, followed by the grueling hours of tracking.

I prefer taking my time to execute things right, unbothered by artificial deadlines. Naturally, mid-process you might hit a wall, scrap an entire arrangement, and hit the reset button. It's a chaotic, winding road, but that's just the nature of creation.

Gabriel AgudoOfficial Links:

●     Instagram: @gabrielagudook

●     Facebook: @gabrielagudomusic

●     Bandcamp: https://gabrielagudo.bandcamp.com/

Interview by Emiliano Acevedo