Fourteen years ago, Kazu Makino—a Japanese art student—asked Italian musician Amedeo Pace for guitar lessons. Shortly thereafter, they fell in love. Then, with he and Kazu on guitars and his twin brother Simone playing drums, they formed Blonde Redhead. It would be the first and only band any of them have ever been in.

Seven albums later, they are currently in the midst of the second tour for "23," the most critically lauded and fully realized release of their career. After progressively moving away from the no-wave sound that defined their early work, they have embraced a more cinematic and moody style, full of chugging, layered guitars, looping vocals and keyboards that recall early '90s shoegaze.

Right now they are in California, relaxing backstage before a headlining set. An overactive air conditioner chugs away loudly and a small dog lets out a piercing bark. Amedeo, a wiry, soft-spoken man with a shock of silver hair, glances over at Simone, whose mid-day nap appears unaffected by the dog's outburst, and then turns to take in the statuesque Japanese woman entering the room. Kazu whispers hello, and Simone stays sleeping. Just before the interview starts, Amedeo leans in and says of the dog, "Be careful, she bites." An abridged version of this interview was published in Thrasher magazine.

Do you have any interest in skateboarding at all?
Amedeo Pace: Well, do you know Mark Gonzales? I have some of his art and we're friends. I met him through Aaron Rose, who used to have a gallery called Alleged.

[The dog barks again.]

Do you normally take animals on tour?
AP: Well, just our dog Collette. We have a cat that I wish we could bring. But we're on a tour bus so he'd probably destroy everything that's leather.

How did you end up living in America?
AP: My father was asked to work in Canada, so the whole family moved from Italy. Kazu came from Japan sort of wanting to change her life.
Kazu Makino: I didn't intend to move here. I had nothing else going on, so it just happened. It was pretty awkward. I don't feel American. It's just like a long visit. I would love to live in Iceland, or possibly Scotland.
AP: I saw Scotland from the airplane—just the edge before Europe basically ends. The end part is so beautiful.
KM: It's hard to get animals into the country though, so we wouldn't be able to take our horses.

What was your initial impression of the twins?
Kazu Makino: I met Amedeo first. I had a really bad crush on him, so I really didn't want to meet his brother. It was so important to me that there was no other person like him. I tried to put it off for as long as possible. Eventually we met and then started playing together.

Does it help when you're playing that you have that connection?
AP: Yeah, it does, but we still have to communicate a lot. It's never easy when it comes to music.

Which one's the perfectionist?
AP: I think I am in the studio. We all are, in our own way, but I'm the one who is more of a pain and obsessive. I was getting into the studio before the cleaning people. I couldn't sleep and was thinking about the album—just getting really anxious. It was hard making it.

What did you want to do when you were younger?
AP: I knew I always wanted to play music, but then I started having doubts about it until I started playing with them. I didn't know which way to go until I met Kazu. It was the first band I was ever in.

Did it take awhile for the sound to come together?
AP: I think there was one point where we found out that people were influenced by us in some way. I definitely felt that by the time we did "Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons" people were responding to us and were affected by us, which was strange and good. I didn't think we would have any influence on people. I thought we would be appreciated, but never thought we'd go as deep as being influential to other bands or friends, or to become important to someone's life.

Does that add any pressure?
AP: I've never felt pressure, but I always feel like I'm being looked at and judged by myself all the time. People have different reactions to everything you do. Sometimes you have a great show and no one says anything, and then you have an awful show and people love it. You can never trust what's out there or how people perceive your music. When you're making albums and playing shows, you have to look at yourself and see if you are making art. That's what's hard for me.

Kazu, you've talked before about how strange it is to tour. Do you still feel that way?
KM: Oh yeah. It's like a suspension of reality. You have nothing else to do except an hour and a half show, and then drive up to another place and try to get your body to that point where you can play. It takes a certain kind of mentality to be able to do it. It's very strange.