Loop: Paralyzed

Calla

Album: De Facto
Release Date: 2026
USA



Calla is a band that found its roots in the eclectic and post-punk musical landscape of Texas via New York City and Brooklyn at the start of 1996. They shared a passion for music from their school days in Texas to their shared experiences in the East Village music scene of New York in the mid-90s. The band consists of Aurelio Valle (guitars/keys/songwriter/vocals/producer), Wayne B. Magruder (drums/programming/percussion), Peter Gannon(Bass guitar/ keys), and Sean Donovan (keys/bass/programming). [more on callamusic.com]

I want people to know that the band and music exists, and that we quietly made big, beautiful noise, when the world seemed to only be getting louder and louder.

Aurelio on making “big, beautiful noise”

“Paralyzed” is a reimagining of “Stand Paralyzed” from Strength in Numbers. You’ve said you always felt there was more you could do with the original. What did you hear in that 2007 recording that you wanted to bring out this time around?

That whole record, Strength in Numbers, I felt was rushed. We had very little time to write, and we were touring extensively. We had bits and parts of demos that we started trying to piece together. Honestly, the demos from “Strength in Numbers” are really great. I feel like the recording session, only being a couple of weeks, really tamed a lot of the songs that really started out a lot more adventurous. During the pandemic, Wayne and I were going through as many old files, CDs, and hard drives, looking for old recordings, demos, remixes that were never released, and we compiled some great stuff. Hopefully, to see the light of day. “Paralyzed” in particular was a short demo held back from the Collisions sessions. It originated with me strumming a guitar Lou Reed style. It was my favorite song on that record, but revisiting it, we treated it like a reworking or remix. It was a pleasure to take it apart and re-introduce it because it felt like a lost track not many people had heard before.

You’ve described approaching “Paralyzed” almost like a cover or remix of your own song. After all these years, did it feel like revisiting an unfinished Calla song, or did it feel more like discovering the song all over again?

I would say revisiting “Paralyzed” was like picking up where we left off. I’m not usually a fan of artists reworking their biggest songs, but that usually happens when the song is so familiar you don’t want anyone to touch it. The advantage in doing this track is that not a lot of people heard it. It was buried in a limited release and was never a single. Like I said before, it was one of my favorite CALLA songs that never saw the light of day, so why not re-imagine it? If it’s done tastefully, it can be a great thing.

When you look at the world around you right now, what is it that makes you feel most “paralyzed”?

When I look at the world around me now, especially through the eyes of this America, I’d say I feel more angry and frustrated, but believe it or not, more hopeful than paralyzed. “Paralyzed” was a song written about how admiring someone can make you feel, well, “Paralyzed.” I was looking to songs like “Candy Says” and “I’ll Be Your Mirror” for inspiration writing that. A sweet love song from an admirer who feels they could be much stronger with someone beside them.

You’ve released several singles as Calla over the past few years, but De Facto will be the first full-length album in almost 20 years. What made this feel like the right time to make an album again?

It’s starting to sound a bit cliché to say the pandemic helped us make music again, but I will say it. Wayne, Peter and myself were in touch throughout our lockdown, and we had already been getting together and jamming for fun before 2020. We had recorded many jam sessions, so we thought, let’s go through and see what we have now that we have the time. We dug up our cover of “Breaking Hands,” “Sinnerman,” and “Ride a White Swan,” plus many original demos I have had compiled from my constant writing for work. When I started mixing and finishing up some of the tracks, they had a new energy to them. They felt alive. So, in a lot of ways, it was like exorcising the demons of everything that was feeling wrong with the world. I really hope for people who hear these tracks, as old fans or new, that they find those same emotions for themselves.

I’ve noticed something in your song titles over the years: Customized, Televised, Pulvarized, Overshadowed, Ritualized, and of course Paralyzed. They all describe something being acted upon rather than doing the acting. Is there something about that passive perspective that naturally finds its way into your writing, or am I reading a connection into the titles that was never really there?

The only intention I had was when we wrote “Televised.” The act of being “Televised,” it made the word more exciting, like it’s taking action or it just happened. It stuck in my head, so when I was thinking through other titles and words, I kept coming back to it. It’s like adding movement to a verb or adjective. Nice of you to notice that. It’s a subtle thing that helps me tie all of the work together.

I have to ask more about “Televised.” I’ve been borderline obsessed with that song for years, and even though it’s an old song now, it still hits me in a way I can’t really explain. When you hear it today, what does it bring back for you?

We started out in a band called The Factory Press when we first moved to NYC in 1995. It was a dark post-punk project. We played music inspired by the Gun Club, Wire, Gang of Four, Nick Cave, Bauhaus. It was equally aggressive as it was David Lynch brooding. When that project disbanded, we felt the need to go darker and experimental. The idea was to go Glenn Branca, Brian Eno, Talk Talk, Dr. John/Gris Gris era. With that idea, we would gradually progress each album as a concept. We would become more refined and focused with every record, to see where the journey takes us musically. After Scavengers, we were writing demos for what would become “Televised.” I was listening to Gil Scott Heron, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” It lit a spark. We had played Gang of Four-style riffs in The Factory Press, but I kept thinking, we need to start punching now. Going from a slither and a crawl to punches is what it felt like. That song was the journey now coming into focus. CALLA was becoming “Televised,” if you will.

I once played “Swagger” for someone who had never heard Calla before, and almost immediately thought, “Wait, I should have played ‘Initiate’ instead.” Then I thought of another song, and another one, and realized there was no way to choose because there are so many Calla songs I’d want someone to hear first. Is there a song in your catalog that you wish you could put into someone’s ears for the first time again?

This is a tough question because every band or artist I’ve ever truly loved was a chameleon of sorts throughout their careers. If you can’t pinpoint just one song, that is the greatest compliment. For this reason, I have a compilation of CALLA songs on YouTube. It’s almost like a best of. We felt the need to have an introductory-style list of songs for new listeners.

We almost met in New York years ago, and I remember coming away with the impression that you were a genuinely kind and humble person, which has always stuck with me. How important is that human side of making music to you, especially after doing this for so many years? Has staying grounded become harder as the music has reached more people?

I’m not sure when we would have almost met, funny! Small world. We always functioned behind the scenes. I imagine it must be hard to have constant attention. I grew up in a small town in South Texas. My world was always small, the music I listened to made my world big but from my safe space. Moving to New York was intimidating but absolutely necessary. I’ve been here half my life, and I do consider this my home and my heart, but you won’t take the small-town dreamer out of me. I’m not sure how I would handle a lot of exposure. I’d probably run off to my safe space and make experimental music again.

That was almost ten years ago! Your music has meant a lot to me over the years, and I sometimes wonder how you deal with the quieter side of being an artist. When the numbers or attention don’t necessarily reflect what you’ve put into the music, what keeps you going?

I appreciate you long-time fans and listeners, it means a lot. Honestly, I score music, mix, engineer and produce. I do a lot of things to survive in this city, and I always work, live and breathe anything creative. It’s my solace from the madness around me, but then the madness inspires the creativity, so in a way it feeds itself, like a yin and yang. I work hard on anything I happen to be working on. I don’t put a lot of thought into numbers and that whole rat race. It’s not relative to what fulfills you as an artist. These days, making a decent, honest living and being appreciated is worth the work it takes to make the art.

After everything Calla has been through, what are you hoping De Facto will be when you finally let it go into the world?

I hope DeFacto is heard by people who have been looking for something like this. We tried not to focus on what anyone was doing today. We treated it like a few months had passed after making “Strength in Numbers,” and it was time to make the next record. We hope we reconnect with old fans, and we hope we make some new ones along the way. I want people to know that the band and music exists, and that we quietly made big, beautiful noise when the world seemed to only be getting louder and louder.

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