Arre Krishna, Bam Bam Arts & Crafts, México Rating: 81 by Pierre Lestruhaut
There’s no point in delaying the aggrandizing statements Bam Bam are worthy of: their second full-length Futura Vía is still the best Latin rock album (not made in Chile) we’ve come across this decade so far. A little over two years after its release, the record still holds up incredibly well as both a solid collection of tunes (not a month goes by without the need to occasionally spin amazing tracks like “Ragatrón” or “Abismático”), and, more importantly, as part of the rare breed of albums that can be considered a round success for excelling in concept, structure, and execution. It’s the type of record that’s part of the reason why we still, occasionally, despite the distractions of the internet era, dedicate ourselves exclusively to the experience of listening to music.
Upon first impression, Arre Krishna, Bam Bam’s most recent EP and follow-up to Futura Vía, feels not like the triumphant return of one of our most beloved bands, but more like an overly delayed release of outtakes from the Futura Vía sessions, which, in comparison to Bam Bam’s couple of excellent albums they had released so far, feels rather disappointing. In terms of the average bulk of Latin rock releases we tend to come across, we couldn’t be happier to have new material from the regiomontano quartet. To compare Arre Krishna to its immediate predecessor would be putting it on an uneven playing field and also overlooking how it’s, in its own right, a solid collection of four tunes and an 11-minute psychedelic trip.
There’s been mention of two tracks being part of the Futura Vía sessions,“Tirando pa fuera” and “¡Regocíjate Hermano!,” which are not coincidentally the ones where you’ll hear former band member Luxor singing. “Tirando pa fuera” begins the EP in medias res with a soft laid-back melody but quickly speeds up the tempo and shifts towards beatlesque hooks and melodies. “ROD” is Bam Bam’s catchiest song to date behind “Ragatrón” and also their most populist incarnation with a much traditional hook-oriented slice of '60s psych rock. It’s in “¡Regocíjate Hermano!” where the EP reaches its climactic moment of vitality and urgency and raises the question of why the potentially best song in Futura Vía was left out of it.
Although fitting more experimental ventures with pop tunes in a single release is a rather rare thing to attempt since the advent of punk downplayed the artification of rock, closer “Líjate bien” sees Bam Bam distancing themselves from their trademark pop tunes in a sort of Ravi Shankar and The Beatles meets Neu! and Kraftwerk, as its Middle Eastern psych groove quickly morphs into a kraut motorik beat. It feels rather anachronistic, but works well on a visceral level. Bam Bam doesn’t want you to take their religious and interstellar references too seriously, and “Líjate bien” is aimed at stimulating your gut rather than your brain.
Regardless of whether Arre Krishna will turn out to be an interlude amidst a continuous series of aesthetically similar works or the epilogue closing a period and making room for a new one in the oeuvre of Bam Bam, the EP lives up to both parts well enough. With a mixture of Futura Vía outtakes and brand new songs, including one that sees the band sort of leave their comfort zone, Arre Krishna fulfills its duty of being both a very enjoyable rock record that provides new material for individual track listening and as a “batch of songs that should be preferably listened to in a certain order.” It’s a short record that reminds us how much we can enjoy good rock and roll and its whole spectrum of primitive, urgent, emotional, and left-field forms.
User 69, Selma Oxor Vale Vergas Discos, México Rating: 79 by Enrique Coyotzi
In my review for Bam Bam’s 2011 masterpiece Futura Vía, I mentioned how Luxor’s vocal collaboration wasn’t that essential. Nevertheless, the truth is we’ve missed her. A lot. She’s made a proper comeback under the charge of Selma Oxor, the band she once shared along with Alexico and Ratas del Vaticano’s Violeta Hinojosa. We’ve lauded Selma Oxor’s return as one of this year’s best and, as evidenced in her fiery EP provocatively titled User 69, we weren’t wrong predicting it as something exhilarating.
Getting rid of the loud guitar noise abundant in the self-titled debut, spanning a poppier sound while preserving an electroclash basis, User 69 finds riot grrrl, scenic artist Leticia Beeton owning the moniker, revamping it into something deviantly appealing, her own. Comparisons to María Daniela may seem obvious, but honestly, quite tired. While their voice timbre might be alike, Beeton’s work isn’t candy floss electropop. This is filthy, dark, strenuous synth punk that persuades you to get carnal in each pumping, lecherous beat enveloping it.
Aided by Dr. Dude’s (Humanoid Mutations) galvanizing production, Luxor, making use of obscure, sinister aesthetics (think Dani Shivers), maniacally stimulates the listener in each of these five ebullient tracks. First single “Dotes de Cocina” showcases what Selma Oxor’s new direction is all about: luscious, soothing vocals that at times sound frenetic, combined with propulsive rhythms and stained yet jaunty guitar work both rousing and degenerate. Resembling a vivacious Mount Kimbie track, bass-heavy “En tu T.V.” speaks about the comfort found in television addiction under scary declarations (“La vida real está en la pantalla chica”). The robotic voices heard in “Aerobic Nation” bring to mind Ellen Allien’s Berlinette, confirming Beeton’s listening habits have changed, while the surf rock guitar line in “Jungle Juice,” guiding Luxor’s suggestive articulation (“O-o-o-o-o-o-oxor/Jui-jui-jui-jui-juice”), comes as the sexiest moment in the EP. Closer “Quiero Salir” still sounds a bit like Portishead’s “Machine Gun,” although it retains a phantasmagoric aura and nefarious outlook.
A fierce and rampant EP, the only thing missing here is the inclusion of outstanding hit “Lo Que Quiero.” It was a bit disappointing to learn Luxor opted to leave it out. Nonetheless, User 69 satiates after a long wait since last hearing from Selma Oxor, exposing a radical change in her music that resulted from going solo, taking a perceptible step into maturity, and encountering complacency and freedom of ideas by making her own fertile art.
Undoubtedly one the best comebacks of 2012 so far, Selma Oxor is putting the final touches on her yet untitled second album (set to be released via killer netlabel Vale Vergas Discos), which has rapidly become one of our most anticipated releases of the year. Led now by Luxor’s demonically erotic craftsmanship, the sexy provocateur unveils the video for “Lo que quiero,” directed by one of our favorite réaliseateurs, Txema Novelo. Even though it has been floating around Oxor's SoundCloud since last year, “Lo que quiero” feels fresher than ever. If you were turned on by Tony Gallardo II’s horny revelations in “Mi Presa” or “Mango Sweat,” Luxor functions as a female counterpart with her declaration to the guy she wants to fuck (“Tú eres fuego que enciende el deseo/Tú me excitas a cada momento/Dámelo”). With limited resources, yet striking impact, Txema Novelo keeps developing his distinctive signature with inspiring results. Exalting Luxor’s and friends (along DJ Smurphy) sensuality through drugged-out dance moves and irresistible cool, Novelo captures, in this first official video, the wildly evocative spectrum of Selma Oxor.
I assume sometimes you might wonder, “What the hell happened to Bam Bam’s ex-vocalist?” Well, in case you didn’t know, Luxor is still crafting songs as Selma Oxor. After the departure of Alexico and Ratas del Vaticano’s Violeta, the riot grrrl decided to take the reins. Following two 2011 dark seductive tracks (including her own noir take of Juan Gabriel’s “Siempre en mi mente”) and a performance at this year’s Festival Nrmal, “Quiero Salir” marks the official comeback of Selma Oxor as a single-mind act. It isn’t as in-your-face as anything included in 2009's filthy self-titled, but displays a hooking departure that ventures into dark-pop currents. With a base that resembles the industrial shuddering beats of Portishead’s “Machine Gun,” over a thick smokey atmosphere and eerie vampire-esque vocals, “Quiero Salir” is a hot return that may make you imagine what banshee sex would be like ("Oigo la música del sexo, pues para mí no hay nada más que eso").