Jorge Drexler, a 62-year-old artist and former ENT specialist, has spent decades bridging the gap between scientific inquiry and poetic expression. His journey began in Montevideo, where he grew up under a civic-military dictatorship that stifled creative freedom, creating an environment where, as he puts it, society did not dance. Drexler recalls his early years as a moonlighting musician who had to hide his guitar under a lab coat while working in hospitals and conceal his medical gear inside his instrument case while performing in bars. Living in Madrid for over half his life, he credits a shift in his creative philosophy for his breakthrough, eventually learning to move his body freely only after reaching age 45. Guitar y Vos (Guitar and You) is also the first track that Jorge Drexler performs this afternoon at a music industry event in the basement of Madrid’s Movistar arena. Solo under a spotlight on the stairs, before joining his band on stage, that’s how he sings it today too. “I grew up in a society that didn’t dance,” Drexler tells me later, across town in the timber-beamed apartment that serves as his studio. Now 62, handsomely grey-bearded and youthfully dressed in very loose jeans with very big cuffs, he has lived more than half his life in Madrid. “Dictatorships end, but their effects don’t leave your body so easily. Writing and performing at night while studying medicine, and paying for his own first recordings with what little he earned in clinical practice, drexler started out as a moonlighter. He says, and fellow doctors as a weirdo with an earring. “Working in a hospital, I hid my guitar under my white coat, fellow musicians treated him as a hobbyist. As an ear, nose and throat specialist, did he find himself especially sensitive to the acoustic effects of striking certain chords? “Well, I know my frequencies,” he says. “At a show I’ll tell the engineer, ‘Bring it down 250 hertz. Where he soon met his first wife, and stayed to make his way as a singer-songwriter, or cantautor – a venerable tradition in S, he was already in his 30s when Spanish musician Joaquín Sabina invited him to play in Madrid. Something felt off until he tried to reconcile his romantic or poetic impulses with his scientific interests.
His transition into music was marked by an unconventional path. While largely unknown in 2005, he achieved global recognition when he won the best original song Oscar for his work on The Motorcycle Diaries. Defying convention, he delivered an a cappella performance at the ceremony instead of a traditional speech. His musical evolution continued through the release of records like Bailar en la Cueva, which helped him shake off the lingering psychological impact of his upbringing. His latest album, Taracá, has earned eight Latin Grammy nominations ahead of the 12 November awards ceremony. Which he composed for the Che Guevara road movie The Motorcycle Diaries, the second is El Otro Lado del Rio (The Other Side of the River). He delivered a short a cappella version in lieu of an acceptance speech, in a classy act of defiance. From his latest album Taracá – nominated for eight Latin Grammys at the forthcoming awards on 12 November – comes Ante la Duda, Baila (When in Doubt, Dance). It took decades to shake them out of my joints by making a record called Bailar en la Cueva [Dancing in the Cave]. He broadened his scope to the cosmic, and the biological, instead of singing about life in the strictly personal sense. With songs about the prehistory of human migration (Movimiento), or the origins of love on a cellular level (El Plan Maestro), he’s had many hits since.
Drexler’s songwriting style draws heavily from his medical and academic background.
He finds beauty in the intersection of physics and art, noting that his first resonant hit, Todo Se Transforma, was inspired by Antoine Lavoisier’s Law of the Conservation of Mass.
He believes his scientific training grants him a unique sensitivity to acoustic frequencies, often guiding sound engineers on specific adjustments. Despite his success, he remains a humble student of the craft, frequently citing figures like Spinoza and Homer while emphasizing that the creative process is paramount. He views fame with caution, keeping his awards in a closed cabinet and comparing the Spanish word for success, éxito, to the medical term for death, exitus.
The album Taracá serves as a return to the candombe sounds of his Uruguayan roots, a project influenced by the death of his father, a man who fled Nazi Germany as a child. The record showcases a diverse cast of collaborators, including 74-year-old guitarist Julio Cobelli and rapper Young Miko. Drexler remains deeply invested in the growth of Spanish-language music, noting the rising global influence of artists like Bad Bunny and the increasing bilingual nature of the United States. While he acknowledges the linguistic challenges of composing in Spanish compared to English, he continues to prioritize the raw emotional resonance of his work over commercial expectations. I t makes sense that a Uruguayan doctor turned singer would write a song that begins: “Long live science. Backed by three drummers playing in the Afro-Uruguayan candombe style, Drexler turns a corporate lunchtime gig into a midnight block party. The singer duly shakes his ass and moves us to do the same, while his lyrics list Spanish kings and colonial governments who have banned various forms of dancing over the centuries. Pop and candombe, he found that niche a bad fit, and sales-wise his early albums were “complete failures”, coming from a background of Uruguayan rock. This may be the most important time in history for Spanish-language music, with stars such as Bad Bunny smashing down the gateway to the wider world by way of the US, in Drexler’s view.
