Maud the Moth Interview: Exploring Exuviae and The Distaff Album

In this interview, Spanish-Scottish artist Maud the Moth opens up about her album The Distaff, sharing insights on "Exuviae" and weaving a surreal tapestry of trauma, identity, and rootlessness.

Your upcoming album The Distaff feels like a deeply personal journey. What inspired you to weave together themes of trauma, identity, and rootlessness into this surreal autobiography?

I have always used art, and in particular music, to process lived experiences and make sense of the world around me. More than an inspiration or a calculated decision, I’d say that it’s a coping mechanism and a need. I feel like making music is such a big part of who I am, and Maud the moth is the purest form of this aspect of my identity, so the material for that project is always deeply personal.

"Exuviae" has such a haunting and raw energy, written after a sleepless night. Can you tell us more about that moment—what was tearing at you, and how did it shape the song?

I think that this song managed to encapsulate the defeat I felt at that moment, like finally touching the ground and opening your eyes after a very long descent. Knowing that the only path that remains is to pull yourself together upwards. It has a strange sense of calmness and writing it remains a very vivid memory. I had my digital keyboard next to the window and all was so quiet. No cars or anyone in the street and only a soft glow in the sky. I remember the effect that those first chords had in me and singing very quietly along as the song formed in my mind. When this happens, it’s like magic or alchemy. The pain crystallises, and you are able to snap it off.

The Distaff draws from the Greek poet Erinna’s work and the symbol of the spindle. How do you see this historical imagery connecting to your own experiences as a woman and an artist today?

I read this poem as a quote inside a book by Sarah B Pomeroy, covering the lives of women in antiquity, and I was struck by two things mainly: Firstly, the fact that I had never heard about this very important poet growing up, in the same way that I had heard about Homer, or Aesop and, secondly, the -almost shocking fact- that I recognised so many of the emotions woven into the words and scenes painted by Erinna in her poem, despite this having originated more than 2 thousand years ago. I imagined this stick – the distaff – as some cursed sceptre that got passed down through generations amongst women. Something that looked like a tool or a consolation price/B-rated power symbol, but ultimately, spun snuffed out laments which had turned sour. In this album I tried to unravel my own personal feelings and memories regarding this, and – like I do in the album cover – sever myself from this tangle through musical catharsis.

You’ve collaborated with incredible artists like Seb Rochford and Alison Chesley on this album. How did their contributions influence the sound and emotion of The Distaff?

It was wonderful to work with people who have so much experience and sensitivity. I knew that I wanted this album to be centred around the “song-writing tradition” (in a way in which the songs could stand by themselves as piano and voice pieces) and that I wanted the arrangements to be quite contained but to still add to the message and landscape of the songs, rather than just being an aesthetic element. I think all of the collaborators did just that. They really understood what the album intended and have really taken it to a higher level.

You’ve described The Distaff as heavier and darker than your past work. What was it like to step into this more exposed space, and how do you hope listeners will connect with it?

I like, and listen to, lots of heavy music and in the last years I have been exploring ways of introducing this part of myself into Maud the moth’s sound in a way which is more explicit. I am very happy with the sonic world of The Distaff and I think that it opens extra dimensions which were only hinted at in my previous work and which contribute to making this world deeper.

Your video clips for The Distaff feel incredibly cinematic, like short films that pull us deeper into your music’s world. How do you approach creating these visuals to match the haunting and surreal world of your music? Are there any films or artists that inspired these clips?

Thanks! I do feel like music has a very visual element for me. Generally, songs develop in my mind both sonically and visually, like a landscape or a scene where the details, symbols and light create a specific ambience. When I make a video for a song, either directly, or in collaboration with another artist (like the video for Siphonophores which was made with filmographer Elena Brea), I tend to have a general direction from the beginning and try to approach it as much as possible. In these particular videos I explored using colour in a very contained way and was very interested in texture and symbolism. A bit like the music itself I guess!

From rural Spain to Scotland, your music carries echoes of migration and estrangement. How has moving between cultures shaped your creative voice as Maud The Moth?

It has affected it greatly and I’d say that it’s one of the main characteristics of my sound and lyrical themes. I´ve always felt between worlds and cultures, and I think that the search for belonging is a very shared human emotion with many facets. I feel there is a lot to learn from meeting others and learning about different life experiences in an empathetic way, something which I hope the world can move towards.