Buñuel releases their intense new album Mansuetude via SKiN GRAFT

Transmission 122: Interview with Buñuel

Buñuel is an international music project composed of American vocalist Eugene S. Robinson (Oxbow) and the Italian trio Xabier Iriondo (guitar), Andrea Lombardini (bass), and Franz Valente (drums). Known for their abrasive and uncompromising sound, the group draws from noise rock, post-hardcore, and post-industrial influences.

Their forthcoming album, Mansuetude, out October 25, 2024, via Overdrive/SKiN GRAFT, is their first release outside the brutal trilogy of earlier works. It is a raw and corrosive exploration of human instinct and the tension between chaos and control. Featuring contributions from Jacob Bannon (Converge) and Duane Denison (The Jesus Lizard), the album channels unsettling energy through jagged rhythms and confrontational lyrics.

Featured image: Annapaola Martin © Buñuel
Buñuel’s Bandcamp and Instagram

What early music had a significant influence on BUÑUEL’s sound?

Xavier: I don’t have a particular reference in music because we love so much music, and not only music – we love literature and other things, not just cultural things, sports or whatever. I can tell you what music I’ve been listening to in the last few years. In particular, there are 78 RPM records because I love listening to old music and old recordings made in the 20s and 30s of the last century, re-digitalized by companies like Dust Digital and others. Listening and discovering new music in the last 20-25 years was the most important source of emotional incoming for me. I can’t say if there’s a contemporary reference in my mind about Bunuel’s music.

Eugene: For me, lyrically, music is magic. The guy stands up, takes out a top hat, pulls a rabbit out of the hat – anybody doing magic will do some version of that. I’d like to go back a step beyond. I find myself listening intensely to vocalists, not just guitar players who happen to sing – sorry, Xavier. I’m listening to pure vocalists and what they’re doing with phrasing, how they’re building a connection between emotionalism, an idea, and a performance in a way that has you paying attention.

There’s a big difference between a James Hetfield and Arthur Prysock, between a Billy Eckstein and Perry Farrell. I’m listening to vocalists who do so without care for whether it’s successful.

Then due to shuffle, I realized something. People ask who influenced me. Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, these are references that might make sense.

But then I remembered the Plasmatics. My first significant live show was when I was 14, I snuck off to see them. I thought Wendy O. Williams was exactly everything a singer should be – a little bit of danger, this uncomfortable attractiveness, and a real commitment to making that vocal magic happen. She’s informed a lot of what I’ve done over the years, without me being conscious of it.

Listen to “Sometimes I” from “New Hope for the Wretched” – it’s almost like a tango. Her performance, though she didn’t write the lyrics, makes it really sing in a magical way. It’s as comfortable for me to listen to now as when I was 14 or 15. That says a lot.

How did each of you decide that music would be the path you’d follow? Was there a specific moment that made it clear?

Eugene: As a life calling, I tried everything before music. I was acting, modeling, none of which gave me great pleasure outside of money. I realized that as an actor, I wasn’t really an artist but a craftsman – taking somebody else’s words and trying to make them seem real. I was being directed by someone else who was probably an artist, but I was a craftsman. I didn’t like that. With music, I can write the music, write the lyrics, sing the lyrics, perform the music.

It seemed like a complete approach to art that isn’t easily duplicatable. As a sculptor, I have a one-to-one connection to the art, but there’s no performance portion. Music created a problem in the community – my actor friends stopped talking to me. Since then, I’ve been in the worst movie of 1987 with Bill Cosby, Leonard Part VI, done TV shows, but that’s just for money. Music is probably one of the highest and longest-standing art forms ever, outside of cave painting.

Xavier: For me, it was when I was 16 in the Basque country. Friends occupied old fish can factories and started to rehearse. I wasn’t playing anything then, but seeing their DIY attitude, I wanted that kind of connection with art. After that summer, back in Milan, I bought an electric guitar. From that time forward, I wanted to express myself through music. It started when I was 16-17.

Francesco: I started going to music school very young. I try to pass my passion to new generations. It started because I was fascinated by the intro of Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” – that’s where it all began.

“Mansuetude” means gentleness, yet your sound is anything but. What’s the story behind this contiguity?

Eugene: I think subconsciously, and later consciously, the plan was to demarcate the trilogy from everything else. “Mansuetude” was a perfect title to cap off the trilogy that ended with Killers Like Us. I know how the music lover’s mind works because I’m a music lover myself. After hearing three records, they might think, “I got it, I know what these guys are doing,” and I wanted to disrupt that expectation. Like in some of my books, I always like to add something disconcerting to make people realize they don’t know what’s going to happen next—much like life. I think the title “Mansuetude” was a great way to achieve that. While the songs might not seem gentle to everyone, I don’t think it’s ironic. I can do terrible things in a kind way.

Xavier: We all agree with Eugene, but I’ll add it’s completely a surrealistic point of view, perfect for this music. We decided to call ourselves Buñuel, so it’s perfect after the trilogy to have this title and this kind of music.

Eugene: If you have the ears to hear and eyes to see, you might understand what we’re doing. If not, it doesn’t interfere.

Your lyrics often explore the shadows of the human psyche. What drives you to explore those dark corners?

Eugene: Some could say it’s reportage. I’ve taken those experiences and made art of them so I don’t have to have them again. It closes off sections of my life I haven’t quite figured out.

Here’s a strange example: I got very into hunting wild boar. If you’ve hunted wild boar, it’s a complete pain – up at four AM, wearing a special smell-proof suit, using special guns because they’re dangerous. I never got a boar, I was more successful hunting geese, but I couldn’t figure out why I was doing this.

Some examination revealed I had been attacked by a dog that I then had to kill to protect myself. It was traumatic. My response was to get into hunting – taking what happened by accident and making it happen on purpose to analyze it. Never getting a boar ultimately shook me out of it. Some people have therapy; this is how I understand living. If these dark corners haven’t been part of your life, it’s like a comic book. For me, it’s more like an exorcism. It’s nice to have it over with – that was crazy back then versus that was crazy yesterday.

The production on “Mansuetude” is razor-sharp. How did working with Timo Ellis expand your sonic vision?

Xavier: We decided to let an American producer work on the album. I was enthusiastic about Timo’s work from 1915 to 1920 – his productions had deep tones and interesting sounds. I asked Franz and Andrea to listen to him. While touring with Eugene promoting “Killers Like Us,” Timo’s name came up – Eugene mentioned one of his sisters was produced by him. He wasn’t the first choice but the only choice at that moment.

We’re very excited about the album, particularly his work with Eugene’s vocals – unique from the trilogy and different from similar music I’ve heard. Timo added minimal elements, some keyboards, and the mix was great. We never met him in person, only wrote. I did meet Mario Quintero, who mixed it.

Eugene: I toured with Mario for a month without realizing he mixed Mansuetude. Strange small world.

What inspired the different moods you’ve explored in this album, from hard-blues to post-industrial and free-jazz?

Xavier: That’s your job to analyze. As we’ve said, we don’t think “let’s do hard rock now, now synth-pop.” We express ourselves naturally. Sometimes we create the right connection between our instruments, music, rage, and sweetness in five minutes, sometimes longer. What we record and mix is the music we want for the future.

Eugene: When they first contacted me, they described it as mid-nineties post-punk noise. That got my attention because I loved those bands musically but never vocally, except for Al Johnson and Dan Kubinski from Die Kreuzen. Bands like Naked Raygun, God Bullies – they needed a singer like me.

After “A Resting Place for Strangers,” we weren’t trying to do mid-nineties post-punk noise rock anymore – we were just doing Buñuel. With good musicians, you get there sooner. Some bands take five records to find their sound, maybe younger guys. But after our first record, none of us was confused about what Buñuel music was.

Francesco: Every time we enter the studio, our goal is to make our favorite record.

With “Mansuetude” marking a shift from your previous trilogy, where do you see Buñuel heading next? Is there a new concept or direction you’re considering?

Xavier: Not making an album like Mansuetude.

Eugene: There’s stuff I want to do with my voice that I haven’t done. I remember being at a festival in Switzerland, watching Fred Frith and possibly Brotzmann. I told a friend it’s funny how noise and free jazz are always noisy – seems limiting. He introduced me to Irene Schweizer, who just died. I got a fellowship in Marseille and listened to nothing but her for a month. It was free jazz but plangent, quiet, yet just as powerful and disconcerting.

It’s like a barroom conversation – someone pulls up next to you and talks. If you’re 40 years into a career still doing hardcore music, you better have compelling reasons for your emotional tone, otherwise you’re just going to work. That’s not what I want to be. I want the conversation more intimate, direct, maybe more mellifluous but still disturbing because it reflects what’s inside.

We also understand how it will feel live. I’m chasing a live experience that will be fun, and we’re all in good shape so our palette is wide open. I want to make a record that’s not Mansuetude but super compelling and unlike anything I’ve heard. Nobody’s doing what we’re doing sonically, so I’m relaxed about it. If we were playing Ska, we’d need constant releases, but we’re not – and that’s not a knock on Ska, I’ve been listening to The Specials lately. We don’t do genre music anymore. We do Buñuel music.

Matteo Damiani

Matteo Damiani is an Italian photographer and author. Curator of the sites Retrofuturista.com; weirditaly.com; china-underground.com and others