It takes less than 25 minutes, but it’s a wonderful journey of warmth and love. Miranda follows in the footsteps of previous albums with a few changes. Subtle, like her. In some cases, for example in Gloria Fertista’s “Between My Blood and Tears”, these are added. … There’s a sample and another guitar (or a higher-pitched variation, I won’t say if it’s a mandolin or a charango or a requinto) or a bass drum in the first song, single “Amak dio.” But beyond that, it doesn’t add much, it’s rather rough around the edges, and some of the greats are destroyed (remember the crushing riff on “When the loves dies”). Listening to the guitar in “Bolero de Plata” (notice the magpie in the background in particular), one can say that he has discovered some motifs of a continuous trance, as in some languages, focusing more on the intonational accent than on the notes of the letters, as if breathing through the excited yet restrained guitar. The same goes for “To Mine.” He conveys to me an absolute symbiosis with instruments. You never know how many hours a day they will be apart. Don’t miss “I Wish I Could Know.” There, he deliberately disrupts the standard mix and we stay at the furthest microphone and find that everything exciting is still reaching us. Make your space stand out. And his voice is so distinctive, so nasal and palate-like, that it’s probably a barrier to entry for some new listeners. For those of us who are already inside, it is an exit barrier and a hug. // by Carlos G. Fernandez.
(8/10)
William Basinski
“The Disintegration Loops – Arcadia Archive Edition”
(temporary residence)
If less is more, then more is less. This also applies to Rosalia. And so is William Basinski. William Basinski, whose Temporary Residences has been republished in detail, is worthy of the paradox of a work built on nothing, and his masterpiece, Some Broken Loops, marks the short distance from which he cried out to heaven more than 20 years ago and from here to eternity. A melody of destruction that erodes a magnetic tape containing minimal notes played on a loop, played by an analog head until it disappears, returns to the market with “Lux”, a spiritual song in which Rosalía uses frenzy and overproduction to draw closer to God. Through the fake, artificial echoes of familiar classical music, we can and should understand it as authentic pop. Experiment, it’s the right thing. The spirituality of Basinski, who is black-on-black and befits the sound director of the Rothko Chapel, is another matter. Stay calm, be patient, and take your time. Death is a silent end. After an hour of trance until there is nothing left, only the dust that has soaked into the head that plays the music disappears. For God’s sake. // by Jesus Lillo.
(7’5/10)
Portugal. the man
“Shish”
(KNIK Seller: Thirty Tigers)
The soul of Portugal. The Man is a great two-headed monster. The struggle of impulses took shape through a key component: the Society formed by John Gorey and his wife Zoe Manville. In this battle of vectors that pull the sound map in opposite directions, we visit glorious peaks like indie pop (“Nick”) and dark, unfathomable grooves that fall directly into hardcore (“Pitman Rallies”). The text is a little too abstract and feels a little cold, but it contributes to the colorful kaleidoscope of this piece. Born in the early 2000s, the band is no stranger to eclecticism and open experimentation, but with this one they take it a step further. Perhaps his newly unpacked “home studio” has something to do with it. “SHISH”, this game of wonderful contrasts, promises listeners equal parts distorted and primitive landscapes. While it is technically complex, it is also freer than Nino’s Birds, and definitely lives up to the beautiful words of Tyler, the Creator: “Create like a child, edit like a scientist.” // by Luigi Gomez.
(8/10)
mountain goat
“Through this fire across from Peter Vulcan.”
(Dawn of Cadmin)
Because of John Darnielle’s irresistible, almost Japanese productivity (this is his 23rd studio album, in addition to a long string of live performances, collaborations, and parallel projects) and his apparent allergy to fashion, promotional spotlights, and “marketist” noise, The Mountain Goats can be extremely underrated or overlooked. But albums like Through This Fire Across From Peter Vulcan make a good case for Darnielle as one of modern independent rock’s great storytellers. And he’s a musician with a far more evolved ability than his ultra-lo-fi albums from the ’90s, recorded on boomboxes, could have intuited, culminating in the unforgettable “All Hail West Texas.”
This is a collection of his most arranged songs, full of variety, sometimes approaching frenzy, combining energetic mid-tempo and ballads with a kind of symphonic ambition (don’t be afraid, no excessive pomp) and some electronic sounds. These were the perfect sound material to make the most of his recurring idea of expressing his work around plot threads, finally moving from the conceptual realm to the old project of giving birth to a full-fledged musical, if that was possible, a goal already evident in his previous work, “Jenny from Thebe”. Here, the plot revolves around the story of the shipwreck of a fishing boat and the survival of the survivors on a small, unknown island, like any other “McGuffin” that reflects the impossible balance between order and chaos, and the unequal struggle between hope and the inevitability of disaster. However, the album is not overloaded with drama and ends up being hopeful, humanistic, and even upbeat, a feeling that is enhanced by the use of a recognizable, familiar voice that, despite its obvious technical limitations, already knows by heart where all the emotionally energizing keys are hidden. // by Fernando Perez.
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