Name: Isabel Crespo Pardo aka iiisa
Nationality: Costa Rican
Occupation: Composer, improviser, performer 
Current release: iiisa's new album tanto te he querido is out via Leaving. 

If you enjoyed this iiisa interview and would like to know more about their music and projects, visit them on Instagram, and bandcamp. 



Tell me about some of the albums or artists that you love specifically for their sound, please. 

Mbé: ROCINHA
Solitary, familiar and sincere, this feels like a portrait of a place in all its future-pastness.



Svitlana Nianio & Oleksandr Yurchenko: Znayesh Yak? Rozkazhy
I could live in this world, with its hymn-like melodies and dense textures ringing out.



African-American Sound Recordings: Erasure Poetry
This album always reminds me of the patience required to truly get to know someone.



Do you experience strong emotional responses towards certain sounds? If so, what kind of sounds are these and do you have an explanation about the reasons for these responses? 

Much of tanto te he querido is crafted using field recordings I’ve gathered over the last 10 years during visits home to Costa Rica. 

I am struck by the way a recording immediately transports you to a specific time, place, and experience. Working with field recordings in this sense is like working with memories, sculpting, listening, and resignifying them via composition. 

Setting memories in conversation can reveal patterns, and these tendencies are what the compositions on tanto te he querido explore via questions, interruptions and reflections.

Are there everyday places, spaces, or devices which intrigue you by the way they sound? Which are these?

Everyday objects are often intriguing from a sonic perspective. 

I used to improvise using objects and delighted in the exercise of discovering their sonic potential. There’s something exciting about playing an object that has not yet been codified in the way musical instruments have, and I love the mystery of encountering a quotidian sound buried in a musical composition. 

There are several moments on the album where I make use of everyday objects—aluminum foil, bells, boxes, radio. You might hear some of these on “tiendo a desaparecer.”



Have you ever been in spaces with extreme sonic characteristics, such as anechoic chambers or caves? What was the experience like?

In 2025, I was visiting a friend’s grandmother’s house, on Mexico’s Atlantic coast. I had just finished a residency at Pioneer Works in New York, where I had recorded the majority of what would become my solo album. There were still edits to be made, but the majority of the raw materials had been assembled.

There was one piece in particular that I had turned over and over, unsatisfied with its emotional tone, arrangement, and production. While exploring the house, I came across an empty room on the top floor with open windows overlooking the ocean. I sat there for a while, and began to sing. 

Taken by the room’s particular resonance, I decided to re-record vocals and produce a new track that day. This became “no hay nada.”



What are among your favourite spaces to record and play your music?

Vulnerability is at the center of my work, so when I’m performing I think of fostering conditions that might invite a collective presence. 

In that sense, I enjoy darkness as a setting for performance, allowing sound to emerge as a thought does, and envelop the listener. 

Do music and sound feel “material” to you? Does working with sound feel like you're sculpting or shaping something? 

As someone drawn to the physicality of sound and in tune with somatic experience, composing always feels sculptural, or even architectural. 

I am interested in guiding the listener through the sonic experience by creating emotionally charged, quasi-recognizable environments.

Sound, song, and rhythm are all around us, from animal noises to the waves of the ocean. What, if any, are some of the most moving experiences you've had with these non-human-made sounds? 

There is always a moment in my creative process where I compose outside, collaborating with my surroundings to understand the pacing of a musical idea, explore variations, and consider different ways to realize my artistic intentions. 

I find bodies of water and wind particularly mesmerizing, and always revel in their timbral, textural and rhythmic complexity. Inspired by wind moving through resonant spaces, in “brilla el sol” I express melodies through breath alone without phonation.

We can surround us with sound every second of the day. The great pianist Glenn Gould even considered this the ultimate delight. How do you see that yourself and what importance does silence hold? 

For me, silence is an invitation to notice my surroundings and my inner world. 

I observe silence throughout my day and am grateful for the clarity it brings.