Mañaneros - El Sonido de lo Inevitable

El Sonido de lo Inevitable, Mañaneros
Empresaurio, Chile
Rating: 87
by Enrique Coyotzi

It’s been a while since a release title had resounded so strikingly accurate to the music it holds. El Sonido de lo Inevitable, Mañaneros’ astonishingly constructed EP, easily works like the sound of a new era–one that couldn’t be avoided, where tribal transcends demographics. Psych rock and krautrock, among other unforeseen genres, subtly merge with global bass and sharp electronica through mind-numbing progressions, resulting in irresistible dance numbers and meditative brain-drillers. The Chilean innovators have crafted a collection of five songs that feel both logical and completely different from any recent fusion you’ve heard lately. It’s the kind of mixture you would’ve imagined after all the tribal boom exploded, but Mañaneros have been part of the game way before that happened and, as proven in highlights “El Volcán” and “Baby Tropical,” have perfected it in their own peculiar style.

Led by extravagant fashion and blasting delirium, the Chilean ensemble has created a set of environmental pieces enhanced by well-chosen exotic elements: the flavorful samples of digitally resonant yeahs in “Baby Tropical,” ferocious feline roars in “El Volcán,” the spaciously trippy vocals and entrancing wavelengths of “Cisco Router,” cutesy sounds of chirping birds in “Playita,” dolphins crying and overall Caribbean acid-mood. And, no shit, Don Francisco even makes an appearance in the murky “Lévantate y Come,” transforming it into an even scarier swallow. Each of these monstrous songs possess the quality of drawing an individual atmosphere, never repeating themselves, therefore transmitting a grandiloquent amount of sensations, along the enviable attribute of new sound discoveries caused by repeated listens, reached thanks to the sensible and detailed craftsmanship in these expansive productions.

Despite being familiar with three of these tracks already (including “Baby Tropical,” #1 in our 2012 Midyear Report) and only the inclusion of two new compositions, El Sonido de lo Inevitable functions as something special, a collection of propulsive songs that sound like nothing else, whose perplexing, outlandish delight should strike any electronic music admirer. The EP commences with those tracks that had hit before our radar and establishes a wild build-up that grows from the most danceable numbers to the most explorative ones. Newest offerings, “Playita” and “Levántate y Come,” find Mañaneros stepping into an experimental realm. Enticing beats and agitated architecture color “Playita,” portraying a sunny landscape that relies on vivid instrumentals. Closer “Levántate y Come” reaches the spooky levels accomplished in Scott Walker’s The Drift, as a krautish downtempo prayer where the devil commands and shows up in the vertiginous ending (“Levántate, hijo/Soy el diablo”).

Considering they came out of nowhere, Mañaneros have expertly made a name of their own in the blogosphere. And this should come as no surprise. Ever since “El Volcán” was included in our Fonogramáticos Vol.13, we knew they were a one-of-a-kind, spectacular act. Pioneers of their own grand movement, Mañaneros demonstrate with El Sonido de lo Inevitable the intelligence of fusion within fresh development, smart genre-inclusion, and boundless talent for achieving it.

Levántate y Come by mañaneros

Video: Capullo - "Testigos del fin del mundo"

If there’s a word that properly applies to the Hidrocálidos synth pop idols’ Testigos del fin del mundo, it would be “grower.” Ever since we reviewed the record, it truly has become a favorite, and some of those songs I previously dismissed as fillers have started to make more sense. Now the group has unveiled the video for the title track, their own psychotic take on Elmer Bernstein’s The Magnificent Seven theme. The clip, with its WordArt-like opening credits, features everything you would’ve expected from Capullo (fauna, food, vortexes that bring to mind Nobuhiko Ohbayashi’s House) and splashes it into a freaky, colorful collage. And we get a glimpse of every band member, including my favorite: Cris, happily painting her eyebrow with her red lipstick. Adorably absurd.

MP3: Pájaro Sin Alas - Pájaro Sin Alas

Nueva Ola Fronteriza. That is the tag that accompanies Rodolfo Ramos Castro aka Pájaro Sin Alas’ latest song. Reading that came as a bit of a shock. Like others in the Ibero-blogosphere, I’ve spent a long time citing ruidosón (really Tijuana) as Mexico’s newest and most interesting music scene, no doubt the result of my own response to Espíritu Invisible. But in the years since that record left its indelible mark a lot has changed. Even ruidosón’s pioneers (Tony Gallardo and one-third of Los Macuanos Moisés Horta) have reinvented themselves as techno trailblazers bent on conquering the world. With the aforementioned tag, I was forced to realize the descriptive “new” belongs to another batch of artists. Artists like the 19-year-old Juarense behind Pájaro Sin Alas. As more and more of these young (very young) faces begin to pop up, it is time to accept facts: this is indeed a new wave.

Already I can foresee discussions about just who belongs in the nueva ola. Here I feel it would help (and save time) to simply tweak the name to be more all-inclusive. From what we have heard, this movement has less to do with regional geography and more about style and vision. The political climate that influenced the sounds of ruidosón is not as embedded into the new wave (though not completely absent). In a way, the music has been liberated. Free to go beyond the domain of “traditional” Mexican music. Evidence of this has manifested itself in two ways: first is from the outsider influence (Mock The Zuma and CROCAT’s haunted take on UK post-dub, bass) and second, through the spirit of collaboration (Josué Josué and Siete Catorce’s already classic “Linus”).

With the song “Pájaro Sin Alas,” Castro makes use of the former, proving once again he can pair his voice with just about any genre. The animated beat takes cues from '90s pop while retaining the meditative tone that made "Alfombra Mágica Mental" so engrossing. Castro clearly has a passion for poetry, the end refrain dresses up self-deprecation with fantastic imagery (“Soy un poema lanzado al viento, una flor en caída hacia el cemento"). This attention to lyrics, combined with his diverse production have easily made Castro a Líder of this new wave. And though his lyrics suggest he doesn't believe in himself, we're sure that great things are coming from him.

MP3: Bill Yonson - "Fuera el Mar"

Chihuahua’s newcomer Josué Coronado Navarrete seems to be indecisive about his persona. At least he hints in his constant changes of artistic names. From Billyonson to JacksonBillJhonson and currently simply Bill Yonson(?). Despite these confusing modifications, Navarrete’s efforts have concurred in an engaging bedroom pop full-length, LP 2012, recently re-released via NWLA. If you, like us, are in love with arresting DIY like Installed and Pájaro Sin Alas, chances are you will be conquered by Yonson’s homemade, lo-fi production spells. Preserving the purest essence of the long forgotten chillwave era, Bill Yonson evokes some of Memory Tapes' and Washed Out’s bleakest tunes. First promotional cut, “Fuera el Mar” (accompanied by a subaquatic experience clip), is an inviting entry point for this record’s tropical wizardry. Download the track here


pic name

pic name


pic name




pic name