Name: Lilya Mandre
Nationality: Moroccan
Occupation: DJ, producer, songwriter
Current release: Lilya Mandre's new single “Harper” is out via KOOKOO.  
Recommendation for Casablanca, Morocco: I highly recommend visiting The Mosque Hassan 2, the story behind it, the architecture, the way it has been made on top of water, and all the little meanings are very impressive and makes you want to pay more attention to details.
Things I am passionate about but rarely get to talk about: I love writing poems. When I was little, we had to memorize poetry for school, and I was terrible at it. It almost made me dislike poetry because I associated it with school instead of beauty. But years later I started writing my own, and everything changed. Now I rhyme because I actually understand what I'm trying to say. I think words hold an incredible amount of power, and when you combine them with music, something magical happens. That's also why I've been pushing myself to sing. I want to experience every part of making a song.
More generally, I just love art. I love making visuals as much as I love making music. Social media creates a lot of trends and invisible rules about what works, how long something should be, or what people want to see. But I don't mind. I believe in building something that lasts, and I'd rather stay true to my vision than chase what's popular.
 
If you enjoyed this Lilya Mandre interview and would like to know more about her music, visit her on Instagram, and Soundcloud.



Are there examples of minimalism in music – and outside of music - that impressed you early on?

I've always admired simplicity. Even more now that I make music, because I've learned how difficult it is to stop and say, it's enough. Not everything simple is beautiful, but when it is, it carries a quiet kind of power.

My mom used to tell me, "Don't wear too much makeup, don't try too hard. You look best when you're yourself." At times when I lacked confidence, that felt impossible. I wanted to hide behind clothes, makeup, anything that made me feel safer. With time I realized that someone can be the most beautiful person in the room wearing nothing more than a tank top and jeans. Confidence creates elegance.

I think the same is true for music, photography, fashion, or design. Simplicity isn't about removing things. It's about only leaving what truly belongs.

Do you tend to find that, as many claim, “less is more?” Are the notes you don't play really as important as the ones you do play?

Absolutely. I've spent months working on songs only to go back to the very first version and realize it said everything I was trying to say. Inspiration often arrives as a spark. The first version is usually the purest because it's untouched by expectations. The longer you work on it, the easier it becomes to replace instinct with doubt.

I've noticed the same while DJing. Sometimes the most powerful moment in a set isn't the biggest drop, it's the pause before it. Giving the crowd a minute to breathe makes the next record feel twice as emotional.

I used to believe I had to constantly prove myself. Even in conversations, silence made me uncomfortable. Now I'd rather say nothing than say something that isn't true.

Do you feel as that making music is a process of adding elements until it is done – or one where you chisel away pieces from something that is already there?

It really depends. Making music is definitely about adding layers until everything becomes one. Sometimes I start with an idea I already have in mind, and other times one idea leads to the next, like a row of dominoes falling.

That's what I love most about making music, you don't always know where it's going to take you. Sometimes the song reveals itself as you make it, and only at the end do you realize what you were trying to say.

Many artists are becoming more minimalist in their music as the years go on, focusing on the “essence.” How is that for yourself and how would you describe your development in this regard?

I used to overthink almost everything I made. Sometimes I never released the song. Other times I'd end up loving the very first draft the most.

I think music remembers the emotional state you were in while making it. If you keep adding ideas after that feeling has disappeared, the song slowly starts carrying your overthinking instead of your intention.

I'd rather make music that helps people think less than music that reflects my own anxiety. For me, minimalism leads to clearer emotions, more honest songs, and ultimately more freedom.

What were some of the starting points for your most recent release?

It's funny because my latest release is probably my most minimalist song, and it was only the second track I'd ever produced.

Knowing less was actually an advantage. I wasn't thinking about trends, techniques, or expectations. I finished it in a day because I simply followed my instinct.

Later, I started learning more, listening to what people wanted, trying to fit into scenes and labels. Ironically, that's when finishing music became harder. Sometimes ignorance protects creativity.

How did a minimalist mindset possibly inform the creative process?

When I go into the studio with no pressure to finish a song or to please anyone, and just try to make something that makes me feel something, whether that's joy or sadness, depending on where I am emotionally, I naturally become more honest. That mindset puts me in a place of comfort and self-confidence where the music becomes me, for me.

I think minimalism makes the message so clear that it ends up being louder than a song that's trying too hard to be perfect or to be more than it needs to be. The less I'm trying to impress, the more I have something real to say.
 
Do you like to set yourself limitations? If so, which were some of those limitations for the new pieces?

Not really. I'm actually trying to do the opposite. I want to make music with the openness of a little kid, without too much influence, without second-guessing myself, without thinking about what's right or wrong, or how people might judge it.

I never want to limit myself. If a song wants to be two minutes long, or eight, why should I force it into someone else's idea of what it should be? Who decided those rules in the first place?

I'm still learning a lot about myself, and I don't want to put boundaries on my imagination or on the way I express my art. Maybe one day that freedom will lead me somewhere completely new, even to a genre that doesn't exist yet. That's much more exciting to me than following a formula.

Thanks to sampling and digital synthesis, there are endless possibilities for sculpting the sounds and overall sound design of a piece or album. What are your considerations in this regard?

I think art is all about ideas, creativity, and alignment.

When I say alignment, I don't necessarily mean being aligned with yourself. Sometimes you can feel completely lost and still make the perfect song. I mean alignment between the moment, the feeling, the place, the visuals, the sample, everything that comes together almost by accident.

That's why I don't really judge the tools people use. Whether someone builds a track from samples, records everything themselves, or uses AI, the tool isn't what makes the art. It's still that person's taste, curiosity, and decisions that shape the final result. They were the one who found the sample, wrote the prompt, recognized the right idea, or knew when something felt right.

At the end of the day, great music comes from having something to say. The tools just help you say it.

Would you say that you approach your creative tools with a minimalist mindset? Or do you need a wide choice of instruments and tools to make music?

It depends. There's a studio in Morocco that I love because it's where I made my first songs. I have my favorite sounds saved there, and going back helps me keep a certain signature in my music.

At the same time, I love walking into a completely new studio, discovering new plugins, and playing like a kid again. Like I said before, sometimes not knowing too much actually makes your art simpler. You stop thinking about the "right" way to do things and just create.

I also make a lot of music on my laptop—in planes, parks, or wherever I happen to be. I don't think creativity depends on having the perfect setup. Sometimes all you need is the right moment and a laptop, and everything just flows.

So yes, I definitely have preferences, but I don't need specific tools to create. I'm always open to new ones because they take me out of my habits, and that's often where the most exciting ideas come from.

What were some of the most important pieces of gear or instruments for this release?

For this release? My laptop, speakers, and Wi-Fi. Haha.

I found the vocal online, used a few samples, and the rest was MIDI. It's probably the least gear-heavy song I've ever made, which is funny because it ended up becoming one of my favorite releases.

Reducing one's options and techniques often implies a different way of working with the materials. Tell me about yours, please.

Yes, having more or fewer options definitely changes the way you create, and I love that. Every environment pushes you toward a different way of thinking. When you know less, you're less limited by your own habits, and that often leads somewhere unexpected.

When I travel, I love sitting in parks or places I find beautiful and starting new ideas. I also love meeting other producers, discovering new instruments, jamming together, and seeing where it takes us. It almost always ends up sounding different from what I would have made on my own.

I really encourage change. It opens your mind and gets you out of your comfort zone. The result isn't always beautiful, but it's almost always honest and unexpected. As artists, I think it's important to break our own rules and keep pushing our boundaries.

French producer Guillaume Duchastel told me: “Minimalism is about more than owning fewer things. It’s about focusing on what truly matters.“ What are some of your strategies for separating what matters from that which doesn't?

I don't really separate things afterwards—I try to choose the right sounds from the very beginning, or at least the ones that immediately feel right to me. For me, minimalism is more of a mindset than a process. You can be in the biggest studio in the world and still make a beautiful song using only your laptop.

When you work with fewer sounds, each one has a bigger responsibility. Every sound has to deserve its place. That's why I think a great mix and master become even more important. If there are only a few elements, they all need to sound amazing and support the emotion of the song.

With so much incredible music instantly available, are you finding that you want to take it all in – or that you need to be more selective? How do you pick the music you really want to invest in?

I usually choose in the moment. When I open my session, the first question I ask myself is: do I want to start something new, or finish something I've already started?

If I decide to make something new, I don't overthink it. I just start opening the first sounds or instruments that catch my attention and see where they lead me.

Sometimes I feel like my senses are a channel. If I'm open enough, little signs guide me through the process and help the song reveal itself. Every time I've second-guessed those instincts, I've ended up moving further away from the original feeling. So I choose by trusting my taste, my curiosity, and my gut.

Would you say that minimalism extends into other parts of your life as well?

Definitely. I think minimalism is a mindset more than an aesthetic.

As a Moroccan, I grew up around a culture that's often very expressive and generous, and I love that. But over time I realized that what makes me happiest is actually simplicity. I love nature. I love quiet spaces. I think needing too many things eventually makes me less happy.

I love luxury too, but I sometimes feel like excess can hide the true quality of something. I'd probably be happiest in a beautiful wooden hotel in Bali, surrounded by nature, with the ocean in front of me and simple, natural products. I'd feel much more exhausted in an ultra-luxurious hotel in Las Vegas covered in gold and carpets.

Neither is better or worse. It's just a matter of taste, and I've learned what mine is.