Magon on making music without pressure and embracing real space

Transmission 169: Interview with Magon, 2

Magon, born Alon Magen in 1985, has built a discography that moves between raw immediacy and reflective storytelling. His solo debut, Out in the Dark (2019), set the tone for his approach—unvarnished, melodic, and carrying a restless energy.

Title: Tales Of A Mountain Child
Artist: Magon
Release Date: 2025-03-14
Genres: Folk Rock, Indie Rock, Psych-folk
Description: Magon reflects on Tales Of A Mountain Child, recording in Costa Rica, and how his approach to songwriting has shifted over time.

Over the next few years, he released Hour After Hour and In The Blue (both 2021), followed by A Night in Bethlehem (2022), an album that drew from his origins, and Enter by the Narrow Gate (2022), recorded just before leaving France for Costa Rica. Since then, he’s remained prolific, putting out Did You Hear The Kids? and Chasing Dreams… in 2023, The Writing’s On The Wall (2024), and Tales Of A Mountain Child, set for release on March 14, 2025.

You’ve now been in Costa Rica for some time. How has the shift in scenery and lifestyle influenced your songwriting beyond just the sonic aspects? Are there any new habits or routines that emerged from living in this setting?

Moving to Costa Rica wasn’t just a change of scenery; it was a whole shift in rhythm. Life here leans more toward the essentials—family, space, and a pace that actually lets you breathe. We built a house in 2024 and moved in July, and suddenly, things just feel smoother. Back in Paris, everything was stacked—physically, mentally—now, I’ve got room to work with my hands, to build, to step away from screens and just do things. With three kids, that kind of space makes a difference.

Musically, I think I was already tilting toward country rock before we moved—maybe my mind was ahead of my body on that one. But this album ended up circling back to my roots, more rock-oriented. It taps into all the shades of rock that shaped me: rock and roll, country rock, folk rock, psychedelic, indie. Costa Rica didn’t dictate that—it’s not like the jungle turned me into a different musician. If anything, being here just removed the noise, the industry static. I don’t make music because I have to. I make it because I want to. And that’s been a good shift.

Did your stay in Costa Rica introduce you to any local musicians or musical traditions? Have you explored any new instruments or techniques influenced by the region?

So far, I’ve had just one real musical collaboration here, but it’s a meaningful one. I met Las Robertas, and they played on two tracks for my seventh album. We clicked, and recently, Mercedes—the band’s lead singer—asked if I’d produce their next album. It wasn’t something I had planned, but I said yes.

It’s funny, because a few years ago, I don’t think I would’ve been open to producing for someone else. I was too in my own world, too protective of my own process. But now? It feels right. There’s something exciting about stepping into another artist’s vision, helping shape something without being at the center of it. If it happens, it’ll be my first time producing for another band, and I like that.

Has nature played a role in your creative process, either thematically or in how you approach composition?

Nature here isn’t just scenery—it’s there. Constantly. You can’t ignore it. In the city, things are controlled, structured, predictable. Here, it’s the opposite. You step outside, and you’re in it. It took me a while to adjust. At first, I was still in the city mindset, expecting things to be neat and contained. But once I let go of that, it became something deeper. It’s grounding, not in a cliché way, but in the sense that you just feel part of something.

Musically, I don’t go out of my way to include nature sounds, but sometimes it sneaks in. A rainstorm will bleed into a vocal take, or the creek near our house will hum in the background of a recording. Sometimes I keep it, sometimes I don’t, but even when it’s not audible, the presence of nature is there—it shifts the way I listen, the way I approach sound. It’s subtle, but it matters.

Your new album was entirely recorded, mixed, and mastered in Costa Rica. How did the environment of Floralia shape the recording process? Did you find any unexpected challenges or advantages in working there compared to your previous experiences?

This is the sixth album I’ve recorded since moving to Costa Rica, which means I’ve now made more albums here than I ever did in France. That alone feels kind of wild. It’s also the second one recorded in our own house, which has made a big difference. Better sound, more stability—no more recording in rentals with questionable acoustics.

One thing I love is that nobody in the neighborhood complains about the noise. Drums, amps, late-night sessions—it’s all good. Sure, sometimes I have to pause because someone’s cutting grass or hammering something, but that’s life. And with three kids, I’m used to interruptions anyway.

What’s cool is that people here know about my music. Even if it’s not their usual thing, they get it. That kind of local support adds a different kind of meaning—it’s not just strangers online, it’s the people around me. That feels good.

The album includes a cover of Arthur Lee’s “Message to Pretty.” What drew you to this particular song, and how did you reinterpret it within the album’s context?

I’ve always loved Message to Pretty by Love, so covering it felt natural. But when I hit the harmonica part, I realized I had a problem—I had no idea how to bend notes. I asked around, got some vague advice, but nobody really had the answer. So, I did what we all do when we’re lost: turned to YouTube.

I taught myself how to bend notes, and while I wouldn’t call myself a harmonica player, I figured out enough to make it work. The goal was never perfection—it was about feeling the song. And in the end, it just fit. It’s my version, my way of paying tribute, and I’m happy with how it turned out.

What’s a track on the album that took the longest to finalize, and what made it particularly challenging?

This album came together differently from my past ones. I didn’t map it all out in advance. Instead, I recorded as ideas came—sometimes with full songs, sometimes just a fragment that grew into something bigger. That made the process feel more alive, less forced. Some songs didn’t make it, but the ones that did felt right.

Mixing and mastering were also different this time. In the past, I’d get lost in endless tweaking, trying to reinvent the album in post-production. Now, I trust my first instincts more. I know when to let go, when to make a change, and when to stop messing with something that already works. It’s made the whole process way more enjoyable.

You mentioned previously that you don’t perform live as much these days. Do you see that changing in the future, or do you prefer focusing on studio work at this stage?

I haven’t toured since moving here two and a half years ago. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t want to do it wrong. I’ve toured before, and while I loved the experience, it often felt like something I had to push through. I don’t want that again.

This time, I’m waiting for the right pieces to fall into place. The next tour needs to feel effortless, natural—no scrambling, no half-baked planning. I trust that when it’s meant to happen, it will happen. And when it does, it’ll be the right tour at the right time.

With your latest album about to be released, what’s next? Are there already new songs in the works, or do you plan to take some time before diving into the next project?

Another album is definitely on the horizon. I’m already collecting ideas and should start recording in a few weeks. Right now, though, I’m deep into woodworking—building furniture for my mother-in-law’s new house, which is right next to ours. Beds, tables, benches—you name it, I’m making it.

Once she moves in, which should be in about three weeks, I’ll shift gears back to recording. But honestly, these things feed into each other. Whether I’m making a song or building a table, it’s the same process: you start with an idea, you work with your hands, you adjust as you go, and in the end, you’ve made something real. That’s the rhythm I’m in right now, and I’m enjoying it.

Matteo Damiani

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