Last summer, the four members of Carabeza Fre (vocals), Reuben (guitar), Beau (bass), and Aidan (drums) packed up and headed down to Los Angeles with one goal in mind: record their debut album. What they ended up with was Malagua, a raw and honest nine-track collection drenched in sweat, ocean water, and emotion.

“We were just dripping wet the whole time,” Beau says, laughing. “Sweat, blood, tears, ocean... every day was the same thing. Wake up, eat together, grind in the studio, bodyboard at the beach, come back sunburned and salty, and grind again.”

Malagua came to life in Fre’s dad’s studio, aka the garage, where they tracked drums and bass first. Aidan and Beau stayed for two weeks to lay down their parts before heading home. Fre and Reuben stayed behind, working for two more weeks on vocals, guitars, and what Reuben calls “aquatic weirdness.”

“There’s a track, ‘Aguamala,’ where we spun a bowl of water around the mic,” Reuben says. “Carlos [Fre’s dad] had this insane gear closet full of the strangest instruments, chains of hooves, clams, even jars with fish in them. We went wild.”

The result? An album that balances grit and groove with intimacy and introspection.

The songwriting process in Carabeza is fluid. Fre and Reuben might bring in the initial idea, but by the time it’s been “funkafied” by Beau and Aidan, it’s barely recognizable. “The groove, man,” Beau says. “That’s where the song really finds itself.”

Some songs, like “Boxes,” started as seeds written for Fre’s old band in LA before being transformed in the Carabeza “jam lab”. Others, like “Dp”, began as mellow class projects and evolved into high-octane punk.

But if you ask the band to name their favorite song on Malagua, the answer is almost unanimous: “Noche Fría.”

“It’s emotional,” Aidan says. “It just hits different. When we play it, everything locks in. The energy in the room shifts.”

Fre wrote the song in a moment of solitude, nursing an injury in her apartment. “I was in a boot, by myself, just playing a bunch of major sevenths. That’s when it came out.”

A Theme of Love (and Jellyfish)

When asked if Malagua has a central theme, Fre says, “It’s about love. Heartbreak, self-love, classic girl things... but also, there’s a song about a jellyfish. That’s a metaphor. Probably.”

Reuben jumps in: “It’s not just girl things. It’s about the journey of love. I’m not a girl and I relate to all of it.”

That emotional openness is baked into the album’s structure, six fully formed songs, and three experimental interludes. Those short instrumental breaks were born from freeform jams during the final days of recording. “Burnt Waffle,” a one-minute interlude, might be short, but “it bangs,” says Beau.

How to produce an album? Simplify. Tell the Story.

Carlos, Fre’s dad and the band’s producer, became an essential part of the process. “He pushed us hard,” Aidan says. “He’d say, ‘Simplify. You have to tell the story.’ And he was right.”

By stripping things back, they created space for Fre and Reuben to layer textures, tones, and unexpected sounds. “We made the skeleton,” Beau says. “Then Fre and Reuben got to decorate it.”

Even now, the songs continue to evolve. “What you hear on the album isn’t always what you’ll hear live,” Reuben says. “We like to keep the roots, but change it up.”

Carabeza isn’t just a band; it’s a creative collective. Their community is stitched into every element of Malagua, from the album art by Anouk Bernard, to the photos from their friend Rory, to the endless support they get from the Santa Cruz community.

What’s Next for Carabeza?

With Malagua out now (released March 14) we wonder what will be next for Carabeza. Long-term, they’re eyeing a California tour, and more music. “We’ll drop off the map for a month or so,” Aidan says. “Then we’re writing the next album.”

“We’re always down to jam,” Fre says. “If you’re a musician, or artist, and want to collaborate—hit us up.”