Coral Casino - Summer Romance

We introduced Coral Casino last year with descriptives that avoided a clear image of their sound. The solemn beauty of “Kendall Jenner” was fascinating, but where was this headed? The Argentine duo followed up by trying on even more hats. “On Point” gave us straightforward R&B submerged in purposeful atmospherics. “Gvns N Roses” was an auto-tuned ballad in which PXXR GVNG associate Kaydy Cain had to slow down his woo next to the equally passionate Lara Artesi. The results sounded more or less like an R-rated version of El Guincho’s “Pizza,” meaning it was excellent.

Coral Casino’s latest EP is another example of their constant evolution. Summer Romance tips Lara Artesi and Roque Ferrarri into an accessible tropical moment. This is the same territory used to market beer and extreme sodas, but Coral Casino’s guise has us thinking about more creative settings. Remember Rihanna’s Lui Magazine photoshoot? Summer as an editorial. Poolside photoshoots where no one gets wet and reggaetón is the native language. “Amor De Chocolate” is an early fav, though that could just be a bias that favors any of El Mini’s contributions. Stream all three tracks from Summer Romance below, which features production from Orodembow.

Video: Ibiza Pareo - "Arido Espejismo"

Argentinean newcomers Ibiza Pareo make music sustained by tone: songs with their own pace, helmed by minimalist resources and a deadpan delivery that's anything than instantly gratifying. Marina La Grasta and Ani Castoldi seem to lack interest for the zeitgeist, and yet somehow their first single "Arido Espejismo" touches the same heart strings that make acts like Linda Mirada and MKRNI so relevant to our generation. In fact, we could easily compare the duo's music to revivalists like Los Wendys and Afrodita, subtracting the cultural appropriation of course. Featuring the best use of spaghetti western chords in any indie song since Víctor Hugo's "Así es como se arruina un verano," Ibiza Pareo's single transports us to the steamy and cleansing revelations of the dessert -just like in its video. The lack of a real definitive vocal chorus will alienate more than a few, but reward any chords lovers out there.

Nunca fui a un parque de diversiones - Mover Canival

Mover Canival, 
Nunca fui a un parque de diversiones
Independiente, Argentina
Rating: 85
by Carlos Reyes

Every so often we stumble upon a potentially great album that makes us feel uncomfortable because of how similar it sounds next to other contemporary works. I’ve always bragged of belonging to the school of thought that not all music needs to be inventive, and that the concept of originality is banal and subjective. During the first spin of Mover Canival, by Argentine band Nunca fui a un parque de diversiones, I found myself betraying my own beliefs and finger-pointing the band’s influences (El Guincho, Animal Collective, Sigur Ros), with little disposition to become receptive of the band’s immediate text and pedigree. Further spins have displaced that focus away from the derivative, and have illuminated the path to what makes Mover Canival so grand: its execution.

Hailing from La Plata, Argentina, NFAUPDD come through as Noah Lennox enthusiasts from a mile away. Like fellow compatriots Los Animales Superforros, they employ the vernacular to tackle on their rhythmic endeavors. If El Guincho personalized Lennox’s digital wooings with tropical immersion, NFAUPDD offer a similar anthemic raptness but exercise it through percussion-heavy folk. “Suerte que el totem de piedra desde lo alto nos cuida,” sighs the opening track of the album. “Deus” starts with tranquil white noise, and gradually adds characters to its sonic, near celestial scope. This anchoring of the cosmos, as if we were contemplating the morning horizon from a distance serves as a very effective intro for the sound-packed universe that follows.

Promotional cut “Abrazos de rio manso” is quick to reveal some of NFAUPDD’s core elements/obsessions: song structure, vocal group linings, and the collision of both analog and digital tools coming together. In paper, we would classify this music as powerpop, but the keener focus on song construction tells us otherwise. NFAUPDD strike to sound weird, cluttered, visceral, and at times, cacophonic. With more than half of its tracks surpassing the 5-minute mark, you can be sure Mover Canival targets maximalist canvases with little concern to sound pompous. And it’s not that they’re accomplishing merit solely by their guts. You must give them mad props for the unlikeliness of carrying out something as melodically ambitious as “Una tarde arrestrada por una babosa,” which almost clicks the eight-minute mark but never drowns in its meta nature.

Mover Canival is a conglomeration of vocal melodies working at the service of harmony. Even if overworked at times, bringing shape to these songs required borrowing narrative tools from some of their contemporaries, and that’s ok. At the end of the day, this is an album that sounds influenced by the avant-gardness of Lennox, but also by the earth-loving grace of someone like Juan Luis Guerra -not to mention the andino weight in songs like “Chupetines Violentas” and “Papa Pelo Largo.” NFAUPDD has delivered a truly round album, featuring a gorgeous intro, overwhelming catchy tracks, and an 11-minute outro that recollects and deconstructs the fruitful, multi-directional universe the band came to construct in such convincing ways.

Diosque - Constante

Constante, Diosque
Quemasucabeza, Argentina
Rating: 93
by Carlos Reyes

One of the greatest joys of making Club Fonograma is the privilege of artists sending us their music before it hits the public light. When Juan Roman Diosque sent me a couple of songs from Constante, he was getting pretty close to releasing it via his website, like he did with his last record, Bote. “I honestly believe this album deserves more than it just being uploaded into a website,” Diosque wrote as he consulted other options. It only took one spin of “La Cura” for me to agree –I was moved and visibly shaken the power of of his crescendos of both, the music and the vernacular. That same week, I forwarded the MP3 of the song to Rodrigo Santis from Quemasucabeza, who quickly set everything up to add Diosque to the label’s roster, where he now finds his name next to the likes of Gepe, Ases Falsos and his compatriot, Coiffeur.

Since its birth, Constante (produced by Jean Deon) collapsed and aligned itself for a healthy, vibrant life. Not only is Constante Diosque’s revelation piece (time might credit it as a masterpiece one day) it’s also Quemasucabeza’s best release since Audiovisión. “Recopilo pedazos tuyos que me das cuando te miro,” sings Diosque in Bote’s beautiful single “La dictadura de tu belleza.” When dissecting his last album, I accused the Argentine songwriter of showing symptoms of voyeurism and paraphilia. Looking back, I really sound like a desperate critic trying to make sense of Diosque’s many vocal and melodic fragmentations. But whereas a title like Constante would make you think he would subscribe to form and shift towards more stable and digestible narratives, Diosque gold-brushes and shines his sequencing tools, placing a rare faith in the listener’s aural sense.

Seeing music as a provocation of the senses, it’s almost cruel how disturbing and shockingly vivid Diosque allows himself to be throughout Constante. Take for example the vocal tab of “Arriba,” where Diosque defies the opportunity to sound fluid to instead, fit his content within the fragmented space of his composition. Think of it as those ultra-conscious walks when you suddenly become aware of the amount of steps you fit within the same tile – and how it's inevitable to develop negotiations with balance and patterns on the long run. The aesthetics and concepts of Constante redirect us to the concepts of infinity in time and space. “Aprovecho la eternidad mientras viva” sighs Diosque in “Una Naranja,” seeing his quest for stability as a continual emotional detachment. This is a work that rewards the demands it makes to its listeners.

From its very first track, Constante reveals itself as a puzzling work. Album opener “Fuego” is chopped and tormented –as if Diosque wanted us to see the unlikely construction of his composition (perhaps hoping for a deconstruction of our own). We may question his methods of storytelling, but it’s that progressively unlikeliness of Diosque’s melodies and hooks that brings it its appeal. That incessant search for a chorus and its half a dozen rhythm shifts make “La Cura” a marvel of a song. What’s truly interesting here is the almost anti-climatic approach on its fast-paced canvas. Structurally, “La Cura” lacks a chorus. Making that realization is as distressing as it is fascinating. The vocal decoding in the second half of the song is the most heart-breaking digital mumbling since Kanye West’s “Runway.” The song hits its peak on its final output through a couple of NASA rockets (digital raptures) that Diosque treats beautifully – glimpsing them only once and resisting to make a loop out of them like everyone has done ever since “Midnight City.”

It’s beautiful to see the discourse of Constante unveil before our eyes. For instance, how Diosque begins to employ certain conducts to his composition. If something made Paolo Sorrentino’s The Great Beauty almost an unbearable watch for me was its harassment of providing with beautiful images one after the other. Diosque chooses its moments and chooses them well. Moments like the “papapahs” in “La Verdad Rota,” the disco rapture of “Soy Las Seis,” and the intoxicatingly beautiful elevation of a bridge cascading itself up to a climax in “Broncedado.” Perhaps what gets Constante further than other recent works from Diosque’s contemporaries like Coiffeur and Helado Negro are its monumental pop pieces. “La Cura” and “Bronceado” are as grandeur as any single by Javiera Mena or Astro, and that make Constante truly stunning to behold even during its uncanny moods and quietly gripping conclusion.




Free Download for 24 Hours (Tuesday) HERE. 

Video: Coiffeur - "Guarida"

Quemasucabeza keeps providing us and encouraging us with a source of essential, brave, and diverse tunes like their recently signing of Diosque and, of course, bumping Ases Falsos to the first leagues with their formidable sophomore album, Conducción. Now we have Coiffeur’s newest video for "Guarida" from last year’s album, but still resilient in our eardrums, Conquista de lo Inútil. The video directed by Luciano Rubio (who also directed the controversial "Mientras Tanto") captures Coiffeur’s musical call for liberation, the transcendental physics in movement and time, the escapism from Plato’s cave, the truth that we find in science, art, nature, and dreams. Coiffeur’s Conquista de lo Inútil showed us that being brave enough to venture into different rhythms will more often than not, provide us with great results.

Video: Chancha Vía Circuito ft. Miriam García - "Coplita"

Some clips you just can’t wait to embed into your blog. Almost too beautiful to look at, the clip for Chancha Vía Circuito’s “Coplita” validates our interpretation of Canale’s spaceful music as folk magic. I once criticized the illustration of Río Arriba for being too catered to the Putumayo audience. Time has proven I was very wrong about that. These illustrations and animations by Paula Duró, featuring effects from Mariela Bond present a narration of folk as the source of mythological history and fantastical escapism. From the projection of a rainbow out of a woman’s heart, to the storyboards of families riding jaguars and dragons, this is a true feast for the eyes. This is the first release of Canales outside ZZK Records. Canale has instead, opten to fragment this release by region under the hands of Wonderwheel (US, Canada, Oceania), Crammed Discs (Europe & Asia), and Charco (Latin America).

bbrainz - Internet Lust

bbrainz - Internet Lust
Independiente, Argentina
Rating: 77
by Stella Vásquez

Have you ever been in a fancy hotel elevator eating a strawberry ice-cream, dressed with your most beloved tropical shirt? Well probably the soundtrack to this scene will be made it by Argentine producer bbrainz. Hard not to think of his music as exotic and technologically decadent -traits of a good soundtrack to sext someone at midnight. The density and the convenience of the melodies, in a set of 13 songs, hook this LP into its own chillwave. There is melancholy in some parts that transport you to an empty dance floor with a disco ball spinning in the music space. Other digital bloomings like that of highlight track "Luxury" are perfect to undress your girlfriend.

Internet Lust feels like a slow dance that charms you with foreplay under a soft silk robe and pink lips, specially when listening to something as pristinely textured as "Atlantico." When dissecting the musical evolution of bbrainz (starting with his first release, WAVE), one special album that stands out is the interesting sonic proposal offered in Pizza Contigo. From the cover featuring George Costanza, to the dysfunctional but very edgy titles that keep you in-rhythm, the album adds up to one very versatile graphic display. Internet Lust carries that wit of his past releases while pushing for a more mature scope like that of "Home Design" (selected on our Papasquiaro compilation) where you can experience an affinity for 80s-inspired chillwave and modern sounds. Where things change is in his artistic choice of keeping the same musical aesthetic while shaping an audiovisual pretentiousness (for good or bad) that somehow makes it more elegant.

The album cover is quite attractive too but a late-comer since it's a bit too Circa 2012. I guess I just find Costanza sexier on a daily basis. bbrainz's bandcamp shortlists the tags of genres the producer is seemingly working on. Something like... [experimental lo-fi] [chillwave] ]synthpop] [synthwave] and [vaporwave]. Sounds like the personality of a bipolar teen medicated with an open credit card. I was listening and reading about vaporwave, specifically about its claims of being postmodern. I almost fainted and start reading Proust right in that moment. It might be that these tags are the equivalent to sarcastic criticism toward a technological post-capitalist culture. Or it might just be that the creator is superficial and banal (which takes a lot of guts), which does not upset me at all. This is an album for intimate post-after-parties, when you meet someone's eyes picking up empty plastic cups, pizza boxes and losing sight in the beer foam left in the bottles. All while listening to the very fittingly devastation of "Late Delight." Just a bit too short on its individual parts to push for greatness, bbrainz sure is promising and utterly aspiring.

Chancha Vía Circuito - "Coplita" (featuring Miriam García)

From touching elbows on a couple festivals, Pedro Canale is the kind of artist you’re more likely to find amongst the crowd than at backstage. His love for music has kept him rooted and aware of the subtle, yet significant discourses of digital music. Which is why despite continuing on the canvas of Latin American folk on his latest single “Coplita," Chancha Vía Circuito seems to be providing his music with even more space to reach a cosmopolitan sensibility. The song had been made public since about four years ago, but the new edit sure merits its proper release. The digital discourse in this track is spacious and focused – the percussion bubbles pop up when they need to, as does the unfolding of its rhythm. Featuring the vocals of Miriam Garcia, “Coplita” reaches new heights of dramatic and magical purpose for Chancha. The single is set to be released on a 7’’ vinyl via Wonderwheel. The label announced they will also be releasing Chancha’s forthcoming full-length, Amansara, in late September.

Escuela de Trance - [Volveremos] a ser amigos

[Volveremos] a ser amigos, Escuela de Trance
Independiente, Argentina
Rating: 79
by Carlos Reyes

My closest friends and I meet at least once a week for something we call El Cineclub. It’s exactly what it sounds like: an evening where we allow celluloid to transport us and confront us. We took this to heart when deciding that our very first film to be screened would be Pasolini’s Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom –a bold choice for the purpose we had outlined for ourselves. When the credits started rolling, we took a sip of our drinks and found ourselves discussing its social politics and cinematic agency for the next three hours. Somewhere down in Buenos Aires, another group of friends must’ve met to see the same film, and it must’ve had hit them as hard as it hit us. Their way of responding to it? Crafting a melody to accompany the film for which Pasolini was murdered.

“Vacaciones en Sodoma, 120 días de pura felicidad,” sighs the song as it negotiates the transferring of the film’s topics into the narrative and resources of indie rock. Dissecting the film’s poignancy on sexual awakening (by means of perversion, corruption, and torture) it’s the academic approach to be expected. Escuela de Trance knows it’s best to approach it differently. They opt to celebrate the premise and subscribe to the team of torturers, offering a lyrical score to the rituals the recent pubescent teens will undergo during their stay in the mansion. There’s something almost cruel about where Escuela de Trance chooses to melodically transport the film, but the reasoning of the texts and its stream of happy-go-lucky orchestration sure make it one of the most memorable moments I’ve heard in music this year.

By the way, [Volveremos] a ser amigos (an EP), isn’t a conceptual album about Salò. My review has focused on that particular track because it hits a personal affinity I have with my own friendships. The rest of the EP deals with other ventures about friendship that hopefully other critics will articulate about. Musically, it’s nothing short from exhilarating. Album opener “Todas las fiestas del mañana” starts off the album with the quintessential chord progressions that usually lead a band into anthemic territory. Escuela de Trance could have gotten away with a larger-than-life statement. Instead, they twist their rhythmic excursion to unlikely places –achieving greatness because of their daring choices. Take for example when they decide to push the organ-based playground of “Chicas!” into a rock opera. Talk about a no guts no glory exercise.

This is a band whose sound doesn’t quite fit its musical community (La Ola Que Quería Ser Chau being the closest). Escuela de Trance rather sounds closer to other enfant terrible contemporaries like Joe Crepúsculo, 31 Minutos, Alexico, and even Saúl Hernández (in his golden age) in “Tan mágica, tan especial,” which could totally blow out in Mexican radio the same way “AV Corrientes” and “Lo Hecharon del Bar” have in the last couple of years. Despite only being a couple minutes shorter than its predecessor, [Volveremos] is missing a bit of roundness, and maybe a little more attention in the aesthetic department. And although as a whole it doesn’t one-up the stellar Doktor Van Der Ger Ger Ger Ger Ger, Escuela de Trance, Buenos Aires, Argentina (the full name of the band) shows plenty of musical command and a lot of bravery in the topics and texts they choose to tackle on their near obscene, uncouth quest for harmony.

107 Faunos - Últimos días del tren fantasma

Últimos días del tren fantasma, 107 Faunos
Discos Laptra, Argentina
Rating: 83
by Carlos Reyes

“A regression in concept and pop veracity” –was my response to 107 Faunos’ promotional cut “Cosas Caras Rotas.” As a sole offering, the one-minute-and-a-half track seemed half-cooked and antagonistic to what had been accomplished in the expansive greatness of previous single “El Tigre de las Facultades” (from El tesoro que nadie quiere). Fragile and unconvincing as a single, one comes to realize 107 Faunos was actually winking at all of us offering an anti-single of sorts –one that’s difficult for non-fans to grab and challenging for bloggers to articulate about. “Cosas Caras Rotas” acquires visibility and a whole yarn of virtue as part of Últimos días del tren fantasma, the third LP (going by the amount of tracks rather than running time) and most accomplished record the Argentine band has offered us thus far.

Do we have to keep digging into the intentions behind 107 Faunos’ obsession at crafting snippets rather than round songs? Maybe we should embrace the cult and look past it already, but when a band attains to a reputation of not following recognizable structures, the critic must consider this as an earnest provocation (at the very least). The band surpassed the three-minute mark not once but twice on their last EP, which redirected us to calling it their most adult record yet. With their latest record, the band rejects prescribed expectations keeping the tracks near the two-minute mark. Unfortunately there isn't a grand peak single for the masses. This doesn’t mean the band is rewinding on the maturity of their discourse, if anything, it strengthens their artistic assertion. Not that it makes the music any less subversive (the lyrics for one can get to be quite eccentric).

Últimos días del tren fantasma doesn’t acquire greatness just because the band sticks to its guns. Their previous works seemed to shade away into existential despair, but this time around they’re employing human effort as the vehicle to encounter grandeur. And by this, I’m referring to the warmth and execution of their unlikely melodies. Take for example, the improvement of Javier Sisti Ripoll’s vocals in this record. The man still has a near-unpleasant voice, but listen at how he expands his voice to parallel the lyrics in the intro. “Vision de aire que agiganta y enfurece las cosas,” he sings as he swells and raptures his low voice to a near falsetto. In “Por ir a comprar” the chord progressions escalate to the stars, and in “Jazmín chino,” they somehow trigger your sense of smell through your ears. Like the burgeoning of the vocals, it seems just about every other technical element (not to mention the aesthetics) of 107 Faunos has come of age.

All of us critics love to conclude middling album reviews hinting potentially better things to come. But in all honesty, that rarely happens. It’s refreshing to see a band grow in their discourse and diegesis as opposed to the usual band that knocks it out of the park with a debut album and follows it with variants of decay. 107 Faunos’ nuanced journey makes for a better story. If something had us reviewing each one of their releases throughout the years (without us ever really raving about them) was the promise that sustained the uncalled, perhaps expandable empathy towards the understated band. Mostly whimsical, although at times on a deadpan tone, Últimos días del tren fantasma hardly negotiates with the zeitgeist or the idiosyncratic. In fact, they chop the spacious discourses of their much-celebrated peers (Él Mató a un Policía Motorizado, Valentín y Los Volcanes, Los Reyes del Falsete) and not only get away with it, but sound truly proud of their own bearings.

Video: Juan Molina - “Sin Guía, No”

If you call yourself a movie fan you’ve probably made your best effort to visit your city’s art house to see Jonathan Glazer’s masterful Under The Skin. Beautiful in all its abstraction, it will probably take a while before any other visual assault confronts you as deeply. Juana Molina’s latest clip for  “Sin Guía, No” (single off Wed21) shares a great deal of the themes (desire, ritual, disobedience) and visual techniques (the forest as a character in the narrative) used in Under The Skin. Except that, unlike what happens in the film, “Sin Guía, No” maintains its characters grounded –and at human level. This is a coming-of-age story at the grace of folk magic. “Filmed in Tierra de Fuego, and inspired by the Hain initiation cermonies of the Selk’nam people,” reads the clip’s premise. Director Dr. Sepian keeps his scope open for universal absorption, and although the clip could do without the mockingly dance around the fire, the clip redeems itself beautifully in its waterfall, aerial, and cleansing conclusion.

107 Faunos - "Cosas Caras Rotas"

Unless you’re Rodrigo Maceira (from Si No Puedo Bailar/Gente Que Viene) or Andres Murillo (Sr. Amable), chances are you have a love/hate relationship with 107 Faunos. Although we’ve never truly celebrated any of their releases, it’s one of the few bands to which we’ve cared enough to review their entire discography (107 Faunos, Creo Que Te Amo, El Tesoro Que Nadie Quiere). Talk about a cult band. The longitude of promise and signs of progress make us dig in and articulate on a band that seemed to have outgrown past subversive obsessions (minimal hooks, minimal timings, etc). Their newest single “Cosas caras rotas” off their forthcoming fourth record is a regression in concept and pop veracity from what was accomplished with career-best single “El Tigre de las Facultades.” Pretty damn difficult resisting tapping your foot during its short span though. A very personal, if not convincingly bold, sneak peak of what’s to come.

Barrio Lindo - "Garza bruja"

If you happen to be familiar with Barrio Lindo’s (aka Agustín Rivaldo) biography, you’ve probably wondered how such a great Argentine electronic producer who’s been primarily influenced by South American folk isn’t part of ZZK Records, given what a no-brainer fit he seems to be for the pioneering label. The resemblance with ZZK ambassador Chancha Vía Circuito is of course unmistakable: the frequencies of cumbia constitute the beats and rhythms, and the sounds of the South American native tribes decorate the sonic palette. But despite not being labelmates, they’ve actually been frequent collaborators. Unlike the majority of Argentine cumbia beatmakers right now, Barrio Lindo doesn’t trade in obvious club stompers, given his music is more introspective than foot-tapping. The organic sounds are more conducive to a backwoods scenery, but the bass line is bubbly and contagious enough for a session of tribal dancing. Rivaldo’s type of electronic dance music meets Latin folklore isn’t a new or obscure trick by any means (hell, even Breaking Bad rode the digital Latin folk bandwagon last year), yet it’s rarely done with such understated complexity and mastery of rhythm. In addition to "Garza bruja," you can also hear a 10-minute snippet of Barrio Lindo’s upcoming LP Menoko to be released on beautiful purple vinyl via Berlin-based Project Mooncircle on April 4th.

Video: Daniela Spalla - "Folk Japonés"

Argentine artist, Daniela Spalla, has released a second single before the upcoming release of her anticipated second album, Ahora vienen por nosotros; the rollicking brush off of "Folk Japonés." Here, the protagonist doesn't just give a pop-tastic middle finger to an ex, but tie him up and try to commit several creative forms of homicide. The video, directed by Salomon Simhon, is a mash up of the girls of St Trinians, The Hunger Games, and witchy-anime - while Daniela Spalla continues to impress with her song-crafting: the phrasing similar to Bebe without the acento Extremeño, and song structure reminiscent of Chile's Francisca Valenzuela. We're excited to hear what other sounds Spalla experiments with on the album after this, and the grind of first single "Arruinármelo." 

La Ola Que Quería Ser Chau - "Más Copado"

La Ola Que Quería Ser Chau's debut full-legth, La Fuerza del Cariño, was a difficult album to assimilate for more than a few reasons. Many were turned off by the glossier studio treatment of their sound, some argued the album was too lengthy for their teen-angst themes, and others just craved for new, unpublished tracks. Time will most likely favor the band’s efforts to outgrow the ticket of newcomers. For craving La Ola in a smaller dose, the band has released their new single, “Más Copado.” Insufficient funds have prevented the single to be published on a 7’’ as originally planned, and so the band has opted to release it digitally. Compared to last year’s “Plastic Ono,” the new track seems offenseless. Lyrically though, the track’s near-religious chorus makes things interesting. And yet, the senor they’re referring to isn’t the lord himself, but the presence of a heart-swelling love overtaking body organs.

Entre Ríos - Saga Catálogo Intervenciones

Saga Catálogo Intervenciones, Entre Ríos
Ultrapop, Argentina
Rating: 76
by Pablo Acuña

I remember reading Carlos Reyes' sorrowful review of Entre Ríos last album, Era. In this entry Carlos expressed his affliction towards Sebastian Carreras' struggle to adapt to the new media that ended up putting Entre Ríos in a indefinite hiatus. The truth is that Indice Virgen's founder never said goodbye to his band but decided to separate himself from the record industry and the habits of users treating all electronic music as indie music: "75 percent of the content that is uploaded to the Internet is uploaded by users and by doing so, they are feeding the corporations. Everything is devalued and is one reason to sense the music in a different way than how I did ten years ago".

Carreras could have opted to keep despising the way music works within the media, but instead he embraces it and uses it for his own benefit. In his new LP, Saga Catálogo Intervenciones, Entre Ríos defies the habitual form of releasing and promoting an album, by developing a series of interventions that include a concept performance where the viewer is introduced to a sonic and visual experience. Each of the interventions are named after a song, and that song is deconstructed live in art galleries in Buenos Aires. Carreras innovation is a beautiful reminder of his words in 2011: "Entre Ríos is a concept. The idea was setting the concept before the person's own name." While Carreras could be viewed as a suffering, airlessness kind of rock-star-dictator (he is the sole survivor of the first band lineup), appearances are often deceiving. And make no mistake about it: SCI is one of the most unabashedly sincere works of indie/electro pop I’ve come across this year. The hooks on are indelible regardless of instrumentation, containing an air around each element that is as palpable as the product's immaculate sound. First single, "Ambiental" has Julieta Brotsky displaying through her vocals, Carreras' sense of emotional urgency that makes this album special.

Rosario Ortega's velvety, heated vocal take on "Otra Vez", remains one of the most nakedly beautiful pieces of singing I've heard this year, in any genre. When lines like “Una vez tuve una historia, yo después tuve una herida. Otra vez tuve un deseo así que yo también sufrí derrotas,” on "Otra Vez" or "Me hiciste sentir que todavía había algo" on "Tu Siempre," are set to the emotive sounds that Entre Ríos trade in, they sound towering, impassioned, and life-affirming. SCI cannot be separated in singles (and that's a reversion for many people). Every track in this album is a piece of the puzzle that Carreras is trying to put together in our own personal experience. I find really ironic that the words Daniel Melero wrote 27 years ago describe exactly my own experience with SCI. The last track of the album is a cover for Melero's gem "Lineas" that with emotional directness truthfully claims: "Hay canciones que se llevan algo de uno cuando terminan. Son como romances que se llevan algo de uno cuando terminan". Welcome back Entre Ríos.

Frikstailers - En Son de Paz

En Son de Paz, Frikstailers
ZZK Records, Argentina
Rating: 76
by Andrew Casillas 

Good Goddamn, ZZK Records. Every year we get in a rush to finish reviewing “essential” records, and every year something gets overlooked. Well, I’m not letting this shit stand. This Frikstailers record has been languishing in my iPod, getting the occasional playing time every few weeks, and every time I think, “Jeez this is good, I need to finish my review.” And then I remember that Yeezus came out this year and how awesome it would be if it were just instrumentals. Rinse. Repeat.

But not this year. I’m here to again remind everyone that ZZK Records is still the most trill record label this side of Cash Money 1998-2002. And this year’s Frikstailers release is a worthy addition to the canon. The Argentina duo’s latest, En Son de Paz, is quintessential ZZK: wild, idiosyncratic, and catchy as all hell.

Of course, there are the highlights, starting with “Los Originarios Ver 2,” which recreates the madcap atmosphere from King Coya’s Cumbias de Villa Donde, but incorporating Frikstailers’ more traditional discoteca rhythms. “Hazlo Tu Mismo” brings the noise, blending reggaeton and Major Lazer down to the core, and then laying on jungle sounds—it’s like Jumanji come to life as something other than a terrible Robin Williams family film. “Batuqueando” is a dizzying ZZK throwback: trad-cumbia mixed with sound effects, but utilizing a military drumline sound takes this to another level. The beat builds and builds for what seems like hours, until it reaches fever pitch and all hell breaks loose. And then there’s “Otra Vez,” a bubbly, slow burning techno showcase perfect for all quinceñeras and Christmas parties that only serve pisco and tequila.

If not for a lagging back half, we might be looking at destacado territory, but as it is, this is just great, solid 2013 ZZK. And with apologies to Yeezus, this that prom shit, that what we do, don’t tell your mom shit, that red cup all on the lawn shit. Uh-huh, honey.

Video: Banda De Turistas - ''Química''

There’s something undeniably fresh about young-blooded bands reviving the past, and Banda de Turistas is strong proof of it. They crafted blunt and gorgeous records (Magico Corazon Radiofonico & El Retorno) that felt like instant classics but, after the third record, the pulse of their magical radiophonic heart went on a not-so-exciting tangent. Their third album Ya (produced by Babasonicos’ Diego Tuñon and Diego Uma) wasn’t a bad record, but it sure profiled Banda de Turistas as a band that lost the element of surprise at an early age.

Banda de Turistas is already looking ahead and want to be ahead of the curve with the release of “Quimica,” the first single (produced by Los Pericos’ Juanchi Baleiron) that kicks off the promotion of their 2014 album. The attached clip (directed by Ezequiel de San Pablo) shows a vignette of designs and effects that mix well with the song’s gleaming synths, even if there’s nothing really substantial to overanalyze beyond what’s presented. It’s a simple, catchy song, a friendly pop song. This stripping-down-to-the-essentials decision is a safe, yet ultimately smart, step to move forward (or actually, a good opportunity to re-encounter with what they were producing on their first two records). Here is hoping the band will amend into their remarkable past and take a hold of the nostalgia that’s been leaking out of them lately.

Video: El Remolón - "Flashback"

ZZK Records darling Andrés Schteingart a.k.a El Remolón has made a name for himself amongst producers working within a nebulous aesthetic that encompasses electronic music, ambient, cumbia, and just about any other electronic sound that's evolved out of Latin America in the last couple of years. After releasing the energetic Pangeatico EP (2010), Schteingart this year produced the electro-cumbia soundtrack to Boxeo Constitución, a documentary exploring the harsh realities of boxing in Argentina alongside Lido Pimienta. He is ready to unveil his next trip. “Flashback” is the first single from his upcoming LP Selva and finds the artist evolving from an electro-ambient producer to a guy who produces tangible songs. The video that comes with it (directed by Ezequiel Mateos) works as El Remolón's first video ever and introduces a character that transports between realities and hallucinations while escaping his lunatic wife through the track's catchy beat.

Coiffeur - Conquista de lo Inútil

Conquista de lo Inútil, Coiffeur
Quemasucabeza, Argentina
Rating: 86
by Carlos Reyes

Intrigued by the global interest sparked by Rodrigo y Gabriela’s roaring chords, NME once consulted Club Fonograma about other Latin American acts that placed the acoustic guitar as the backbone of their pedigree. We listed a few names—far less "exotic" ones of course, which is probably why they never referenced our shortlist. Among them was Coiffeur (moniker of Guillermo Alonso), a man who seemed to be subscribed to the school of "Mi guitarra y vos," but whose swooning composition had elevated him from the rest. Last year’s release of his EP, Nada, witnessed the composer “turning his rumbling chords into disco deep cuts.” It’s a transmutation of sorts and, although confusing at first, we must say Coiffeur has never sounded this good.

Conquista de lo Inútil is Coiffeur’s first full-length record on this new, avant landscape. There was undeniable warmth in the echoes of his acoustic guitar, but that doesn’t mean he’s abandoning sensitivity. He’s just using a different vehicle to move forward. Coiffeur’s approach to disco and dance music is one where he still wears his heart on his sleeve. Conquista de lo Inútil starts with bare vocal harmonies announcing concepts about space, time, movement, and density. Shortlisting the themes in the first breath of the album is a crude way to negotiate with form, but Coiffeur somehow gets away with it. As he extends his harmonies, the concepts begin to personalize and, in a miraculous, almost sexual way, we hear synthesizers welcoming the emotional discourse. That acceptance from the canvas to his illustrator is a beautiful thing to witness. Virtuosity and palpable artistic choices take care of the rest.

It’s a surprising and perhaps arguable statement, but Coiffeur’s music has acquired seriousness (in the same way Reflektor has brought magnitude to the Arcade Fire discourse), something truly startling considering Coiffeur’s start in folk music. “Una idea nos atraviesa y una accion nos dispersa,” sighs a singer who is conscious of the privileged canvas he’s working on. First single “Damero” is a splendorous example of how Coiffeur personalizes the concepts and topics of metaphysics in an uncluttered, introspective way. The desolated, almost tragic treatment of organic tools in tracks like “Ovo” and “Christine” speak of a composer/stylist who’s still a little more preoccupied with the tailoring of his keyboards than with the artificial glow technology might offer. The amount of organic and synthetic fabric here is carefully calculated, something that prevents the album from sounding innovative but that also moves it away from becoming a pastiche.

Recent years have positioned Argentina as a fertile land for left-field dance music (Isla de los Estados, Matilda, Michael Mike) and, although glamorous on its own, it has struggled to internationalize in the same way Chilean pop has. Under the always dependable and prestigious Chilean label Quemasucabeza (Gepe, Pedropiedra, Caravana), the distribution of Coiffeur’s reconditioned venture (assisted by synth pop-provocateur producer Juan Stewart) seems all that more promising. Potential singles “Oxigeno” and “Nudo” are sure to help the artist find an intercontinental audience. One line in the album stands above any synthetic design: “la moral no va a servirte de mucho.” Coiffeur is still verbalizing universal feelings regardless of the vessel he is surveying. At its most accessible numbers, the album deconstructs the no-strings-attached (to verbal and lyrical context) notions that inhabit dance music. Coiffeur wants emotional strings attached, the whole ball of yarn in fact. And it’s ultimately this conscious (if outright romanticized) choice that makes Conquista de lo Inútil truly essential and transfixing.