paola puente
vinyl therapy
BY tee cardaci
If Paola Puente’s records, portable turntables, vintage toys and ephemera were housed in a museum, it would be enough to make The Smithsonian envious. The fact that one individual has single-handedly amassed such a meticulously curated collection is extraordinary.
To behold her menagerie of artifacts is to experience unadulterated joy. It’s perhaps ironic, then, to consider that her quest to collect began in her early teens as a solitary journey in search of solace.
“The reason I turned to records when I was a lot younger was because it was a sort of therapy for me,” Paola, who goes by Double Peas, recalls. “It was a way to get away from my troubles.” The darkness her records helped her navigate in her younger years mostly gives way to light these days, but not entirely. She’s okay with that. Paola confides, “I still turn to music when I’m down. Sad songs still touch me for a reason.” On her shelves and displays, there is space for joy and pain to live side by side, with an understanding that one does not exist without the other. But for those of us viewing it from the outside, it’s hard to feel anything but sheer delight in the presence of such a vast collection.
Meeting Paola, it’s hard not to be taken in by her warmth and charisma. Throughout our conversation, it quickly becomes evident that beneath the surface is a strong and fiercely independent spirit not to be underestimated. It was a pleasure to spend an afternoon getting to know the enigmatic one called Double Peas, discussing, among many things, her Latin musical roots, the importance of getting out there and digging for yours, the mystique of bootleg 8-tracks and how one comes to acquire a Big Daddy Kane Tootsie Roll.
"The reason I turned to records when I was a lot younger was because it was a sort of therapy for me."
A Portable Paradise. “Usually where there are records, there are record players.”
I’d like to know where your story begins to better understand where you are now. Can you take me back to your early days and tell me where you’re from?
I was born in Santiago, Chile. But we had to leave Chile in the early ’80s and relocate to the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. That was all due to the political turmoil going on with [Augusto] Pinochet and everything. It was just bad. My uncle, my dad’s older brother, had already lived in LA for a couple of years and my dad was just following in his footsteps. So it was me and my sister. I was two at the time, my sister was four, and my mom was in her early twenties. Both my parents were pretty young and not knowing what they were doing, but that’s pretty much how we ended up in Los Angeles.
Can you tell me about your dad’s musical influence?
Moving around a lot when I was young had a heavy influence on me, exposing me to different styles of music. And for sure, I always credit my dad for being my biggest musical influence. He just showed me everything. He had a wide variety in his pocket, and I think that did get passed on to me. My dad had music playing in the house. My mom did too. It’s funny because when we moved to the States, you know, they wanted to be ‘Americanized’ and fit in with the Joneses. So that’s when they started bringing in English-language music too, I think in part because they were just trying to learn the language through television and music.
Debora – Supergirl Debora. Debora Serrata is a Mexican artist who was a member of the group Punto Quatro, best known for their parody of the Grease movie soundtrack sung in Spanish. Her obscure late-70s solo LP, Supergirl, on OB Productions, is a mix of Latin soul and disco. She’s backed on the date by her Punto Quatro bandmates.
“The track for me on Supergirl ‘Lo Que No Haria Por Amor.’ It’s a Spanish cover of Bobby Caldwell’s ‘What You Won’t Do For Love’. The whole LP is great and I think before I even heard the record I picked it up on the strength of the cover art.”
