Generación Ruidosón: Creating the Sound of the Border for a New Decade

   By Reuben Torres | Nov 19th, 2019

    Artwork by Alonso Ayala (@ouchal)

The 10s were a decade of oversaturation. Even before the streaming revolution came along in the latter half of the decade, my generation, that is, the generation that came of age in the new millennium, had for years already been bombarded by a wealth of sounds coming from a slew of avenues: p2p networks like Napster, Limewire, and Soulseek, the rise of mp3 blogs, and endless torrents. All of this allowed us to consume every artist and style from across history, in a way that no generation had before. We experienced a kind of flattening in our mode of consumption and subsequent exhaustion as a result. This proved to be a great source of anxiety for some of us who lived through the analog-to-digital transition.

It was this anxiety, I think, that first spurred me and a small cohort of artists and misfits to throw small raves disguised as house parties around San Diego and Tijuana sometime around the start of the decade. At the time, we had the lofty aspiration of creating a musical scene that would speak to our experiences as fronterizos, or border kids. Something that would wade through all the noise.

Up until that point, Gen X had been the only reference point for Tijuana. They were the first generation to introduce the border city to the world as something other than a seedy pit stop for low lives and narcos and instead presented it as an actual vibrant metropolis and unlikely cultural epicenter. They defined what it was to live and experience that geographical limbo, through literature, art, and especially music. The very notion of a true “regional sound” of Tijuana that we aspired toward had already been cemented in electronic music through the legacy of Nortec Collective, who would characterize the clash of cultures in their mix of house, techno, and banda/norteño music. But that narrative was already growing stale for our generation and it was clear that someone needed to break away from it.

That someone was Tony Gallardo. Up until then, he was a virtual unknown in the scene, because, well, there was no real scene of which to speak. He’d been making music as Unsexy Nerd Ponies – a kind of glitchy avant-pop project that was criminally underrated during its time – and performed regularly at our aforementioned parties. After a few years of flying under the radar, he began experimenting with guapachoso sounds. The sawtooth synths and chiptune beats in his songs were replaced by tropical rhythms, cumbia and banda samples, inspired in part by the likes of El Guincho and the burgeoning global bass craze.

The hybrid that Tony explored wasn’t especially groundbreaking, but it hit close to home for a select group of artists, myself included. Our generation had a closer affinity to American culture, as opposed to our Mexican roots. This wasn’t exclusive to the border, but it definitely felt more present there due to our geographical proximity to the US. Even though we’d grown up with the folkloric sounds of our forebears, they somehow felt alien to us. We were culturally uprooted as a result of capitalist consumption, globalization, and, of course, the Internet. But Tony’s approach made these sounds tangible again, somehow, like hardening back to some earlier, more innocent time.

The true seismic shift in Tony’s music came when he began to sing in Spanish, which for him necessitated a new identity. He rebranded himself as María y José, the names of his parents and also two of the most common – if not the most common – in Mexico. It was as rootsy as it could get. Through songs like “Espíritu Invisible,” “Tierra Sagrada” and “Ola de Calor” he spearheaded a new sound, which married the old and the new. We called it ruidosón.

It began as a joke, as it was never really clear what ruidosón was, nor was it meant to be, really. It was a sound, to be sure, and a series of parties. But it also sounded like something that’s been around forever. Like the name of a salsa radio station or a banda channel on cable TV, ruidosón evokes the soundtrack of every Latin American party ever. But really there was a great deal of ingenuity in the name, if you read between the lines. It described a condition, which we were all simultaneously experiencing, a sort of zeitgeist that would ultimately shape the way we made music: that eternal clash between the past and the present, tradition and relentless modernity.

Los Macuanos – a group I created alongside Moisés López and Moisés Horta – was the first ruidosón project to emerge after Tony’s. Our sound manifested all these aforementioned anxieties: political, technological, cultural, existential, even temporal. Early songs like “Alma,” “Ritmo de Amor” and “El Metralleta” – first featured on this very blog – defined what the ruidosón sound would become: ghostly, noisy, unsettling, dissenting, dark, made for the hips as much as the head. But more importantly, it was curious. The music of Los Macuanos, and ruidosón, always presented Mexican identity as a question rather than a statement.  Our first true successor, Santos, would later mold this aesthetic into even weirder permutations (See: Agonía and La Sombra de Satán), featuring a much more prominent guapachoso sound, true to the joie-de-vivre spirit of Mexico, and painting a darker shade on the debauchery of our culture’s eternal fixation with la fiesta.

But it was Siete Catorce who really took ruidosón to unprecedented heights. His music, the most abstract and formalistic of the lot, exposed what was at the core of ruidosón: a total erasure of borders.  The most sublime incarnation of his vision could only be experienced on a sweaty dancefloor. It is there that he perfected the seamless art of crossing musical boundaries in an almost alchemic fashion, going from cumbia to tribal, juke to banda, hip-hop to your hips, his twisted mind to yours, without you ever realizing what went down. Perhaps no other artist defined Mexican electronic music during the past decade better than him.

Ruidosón was our way of breaking through the noise, or rather, embracing it. We assumed the transformation – at once musical and existential – that came with the new millennium and new technology, by exorcising the ghosts that haunted us, of our predecessors and theirs before them. We built a new culture from the ashes of our old, so-called traditions through the appropriation and detournement of its most prominent signifiers, those which supposedly defined our “Mexican identity.” This conflict, both specific to our time and timeless, I assume, will be relived in the coming years. When that happens, I anticipate that we will seem archaic by comparison. Perhaps this is the way it’s always meant to play out. Perhaps we too will become the ghosts to haunt the generations to come.

Reuben Albert Torres is a writer, journalist, musician and audiovisual producer from the San Diego-Tijuana border. He is a graduate of UC Berkeley and Columbia University, where he completed studies in film and journalism, respectively. He has written about arts and culture for publications like Remezcla and Vice, among others. He served as producer and co-host of the podcast Intelécto Genérico––alongside Tijuana writer and theorist Alfredo González Reynoso––which focused on the condition of the US-Mexico border through the lens of art and politics.

As a musician, Torres has developed several electronic projects such as Los Macuanos and Espectro Caudillo, whose productions appear in films and series like Hecho en México (Pantelion, 2012), 1994 (Vice/Netflix, 2019) and Los Espookys (HBO, 2019).

He currently writes about New York City life and politics at Univision NY.

AJ Dávila - "Post Tenebras Lux"

"Clearer light, darker darkness... It is impossible to properly appreciate the light without knowing darkness" (Jean-Paul Sartre).

The transition from darkness to light happens often in one’s life. Whether it originates from a dirty fight, a sense of betrayal or devastating break up, the black void of distress and misery always seems to engulf everything. And then, one day, we make a step forward, leaving the void behind. Darkness gives way to light. The thick fog and blackout period becomes the stepping stone to the positive. The transition can be so powerful sometimes that it is not just a transition from darkness to light, but rather a total transformation of the darkness itself. Distress and misery are not forgotten but negativity and darkness are themselves transformed into light.

“Post Tenebras Lux,” first single off AJ Dávila’s yet-to-be-titled-but-long-awaited solo album takes us on an enthralling cathartic quest for light. Juxtaposed drum smacking, pressing organ progressions and babycito's notorious howls make up the intro of this rowdy upheaval. The buzz of a saxophone (courtesy of Los Fabulosos Cadillacs' Sergio Rotman) are then mingled to distorted guitar roars. Less lo-fi than previous recordings, “Post Tenebras Lux” still retains AJ’s garage rock killer melodies. The sonic chiaroscuro ends in a whirlwind of kaleidoscopic sax inflections, from which nobody emerges quite the same.

Julieta Venegas - Algo Sucede

Algo Sucede, Julieta Venegas
Sony Music, Mexico
Rating: 89
by Andrew Casillas

Julieta Venegas is past her prime. She’s a relic of a prior era, an embodiment of the establishment, a musician whose most innovative years are behind her. And she’s just made her best pop album yet.

That poor attempt at misdirection aside, the past decade of Julieta Venegas’ career is one of the most idiosyncratic in the pop landscape. After helping signal the end of Mexico’s rock en español era with 2003’s Sí, she’s spent her last four albums stretching the bounds within her specific sound, like an aural auteur. Whether it’s incorporating new styles wholesale (think the rap verses on Limón y Sal or the Chilean electro-pop of Los Momentos), or reimaging her punk sensibilities into adult reflections (think the MTV Unplugged version of “Sería Feliz), Julieta’s proven a willingness to deliver eclectic sounds—even if the results have varied compared to the consistency of her first three albums.

So it comes as a surprise that Algo Sucede, her eighth album, is Julieta Venegas at her most distilled. She’s shaken off the genre experimentation: there are no awkward hip-hop tracks; no crashing disco beats. Instead, the album delivers an array of addictive melodies, subversive wordplay, and delicately intricate arrangements that’s been the foundation of Julieta’s career thus far.

Lead single “Ese Camino” is a prime example of this foundation. An analogue to Miranda Lambert’s “The House that Built Me,” Julieta substitutes a jaunty exterior for the latter’s pensivity. However, the two songs differ in another important way aside from tempo. “Ese Camino” eschews “House’s” specificity to follow one of the great critic Matt Cibula’s golden songwriting maxims: you must either show or tell, but never both. Indeed, the entire first verse alone tells a dynamic and poignant parable:

“Háblame con cuidado si vas a hablar de lo que fui / Mi pálida infancia ya está tan lejos de aquí / Aún me estremezco ahora cuando me encuentro ahí / Por un momento una niña solo quería ser feliz.” 

And the remainder of the song ruminates on nostalgia in a fashion worthy of Mad Men’s “The Wheel.” But you’d never know it going off the instrumentation and chorus, which sound like some grand celebration of abuelita’s Sunday consommé. But even within the melody, one can hear dreamy sound effects and theramin-like keys, as if reality and the ethereal are pushing and pulling the song within its realms. It’s not just one of Julieta’s most poignant songs—it’s one of her finest singles ever.

Algo Sucede is bursting at the seams with moments, large and small, that hit such highs. The title track is a pop riot marrying a bold rhythm (that post-punk bassline!) with intricate percussion (listen with headphones for the little clicks and pops). “Se Explicará” has a melody so effervescent you could use it to brew an IPA. Opener “Esperaba” is a close marriage of Sí and Los Momentos, coming across as a whimsical (dig them hand claps) mash-up of past collaborators Miranda! and Gepe.

But where Algo Sucede distinguishes itself from Julieta’s prior work are the introspective numbers, songs that were her specialty in her nose ring years, but have fallen out of favor as Julieta’s music veered away from the alternative. Algo Sucede not only sees the return of these meditative piano-ballads, but also drops the angst of Aquí in favor of sagacity. On “Una Respuesta,” for example, Julieta takes on the role of an elder stateswoman. Straightforward almost to a fault, the lyrics don’t tell a story so much as provide counseling—the lyrics reflect a pain has been lived in for years, not merely some fleeting heartbreak.

Easily the most gorgeous of these numbers is “Porvenir.” An exquisite rumination on separation, the song contains one of Julieta’s most heart-wrenching melodies, which is bolstered with sparse yet powerful piano and cello-work. I found myself replaying the final chords just to feel the devastation.

And then there’s “Explosión.” While the political meaning of the track has been well documented (our own Zé Garcia summed it up well), Julieta’s own methods are certainly worth dissecting. Melodically, one wishes that her Tijuana No! roots would have surfaced more directly. But as the rest of Algo Sucede makes clear, that Julieta Venegas is gone. Replaced by someone trying to use her position as a mass-market musician to attack a sizable segment of her listeners who willfully ignore the atrocities of Mexico’s commercial class. But there’s also an implied lament that the wheel turns without repose. As a result, “Explosión” doesn’t incite retribution so much as it challenges its listeners. Whether the message is effective depends on your level of cynicism, but as a pop song, it’s directness and audacity is, at a minimum, admirable.

Arriving almost twenty years after her arrival in the music world, Algo Sucede cements Julieta Venegas’ place in the canon. By no means is it going to have the personal impact of Aquí or Bueninvento, or shake up the scene like Sí or Limón y Sal. It’s just the culmination of an artist whose spent over a decade refining her style into a workhorse of pop pleasantry and infectious wordplay. To a skeptic or an outside observer, it may sound like Julieta Venegas has merely perfected living along the middle of the road. Well, if this is middle of the road, call her Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Technicolor Fabrics - Bahía Santiago

Bahía Santiago, Technicolor Fabrics
LOV/RECS, Mexico
Rating: 80
by Souad Martin-Saoudi

I will sound like a pop psych/self-help preacher, but I believe we all have, within us, a child (I can feel the mass eye-roll as I’m writing this). Yet, more often than not, the adults that we are abandon or silence that child (I’m referring to you, eye-rollers). This repression inevitably crushes our spontaneity, creativity, authenticity, even our ability to express ourselves, have self-esteem and be natural. Under this context, to recognize and unleash our inner child, as a carrier of transformation, is to recognize and unleash our inner essence, our creative potential and spontaneity; it is to identify all the fragmented parts of our psyche and ultimately find our true self. This is a lengthy process; but it is one that pushes us to become complete. Bahía Santiago, title chosen by Technicolor Fabric for their latest album, is the imaginary cove where this inward odyssey begins; it’s where we (re)connect with the one we were before becoming apathetic, “normal” adults.

Over the course of two years, Technicolor Fabrics tactfully crafted nine songs like nine viewpoints overlooking the various facet of their concerted voyage within. This collection of songs is actually the band’s third album, but where Run… The sun is burning all your hopes (2008) and Ideas (2011) seemed like indecisive attempts at anchoring their particular brand of indie pop rock, Bahía Santiago is all about refinement and definiteness, whether it is in Juan Pablo Corcuera’s startlingly melancholic tone and rock accent, in Abraham López’s dextrous percussive punches, Daniel Salazar’ immaculate yet ardent synth progressions, Joaquín Negrete’s sleek and elastic bass lines or in "Yogui" Raúl Cabrera’s smooth and earnest guitar riffs. Bahía Santiago is their most ambitious and probably their most complete and accomplished album.

The first drum stroke and guitarrazo of opener “Aviéntame” immediately signals a course-alteration for the quintet who recently moved from Guadalajara to D.F. The vigorous distortion-fuelled track sounds nothing like the others on the album (and is the only one produced by Milo Froideval). Yet, it acts like the essential phase to undertake a fundamental re-think of the past and present – the journey to Bahía Santiago. “Mi templo es frágil yo me pierdo. Me fundo y viajo por el mar abierto, muy lento” sings Corcuera with the hint of a smile. You know the band just dived straight into a vault of anxiety and despair induced by the contemporary urban condition only to emerge at the other end, a little lighter. “Volver a Comenzar” naturally follows, accompanied by a fluid synth line and layered "oh, oh, ohs." It’s the embodiment of an existential reality: unconditional acceptance of the loved one is an illusion; it’s sad, disturbing, yet reassuring. The dominant bass, organ-shuffle and solid backbeat on “Ceniza” presages we are finally reaching the shores of Bahía Santiago. Here, Corcuera shows some creative wisdom recognizing that we are at the end of the day, all insignificant, like ashes at sea (“La verdad siempre cambia de lugar, si no sabes dónde va, se va, se va. Dime si tú también lo ves así, soy ceniza nada más”). “Fuma” is a synth-triggered marimba gem. The song, which features the new wave-esque inflections of Siddhartha (I hear some Cerati!), reveals how hooky Technicolor Fabrics can be with their minimalist approach. The spirit of the singer-songwriter, who produced all but two songs on the album, can be glimpsed all through this journey dedicated to nostalgia, innocence and beauty.

Layered percussion, clean organ patterns, and precise guitar lines bounce around and off of one another on obvious standout track “Globos.” While the title inevitably leads me back to the compelling images of Albert Lamorisse’s oscar winning medium-length film, the lyrics emits the desire to recover one’s ability to risk without fear and renew with the innocence of simplicity. On wordless “Venezuela,” the earthy summer breeze of Bahía Santiago wafts our faculty for awe, wonder and naïveté but also holds our accumulated traumas, fears and hurts. The Tapatío boys have sonically evolved in a sort of horizontal organization where every member is visible, and the 2 minutes instrumental piece demonstrates their fully grown ability for decentralized arrangements. “Desde el Mar,” with its wailing guitars and ethereal synth lines, give out rock poem vibes. The sonic collage continue to expand on “Solo,” as the band seem to have channelled Sebastien Tellier’s erotic pop feel just seconds into it. “Hoy,” one of the most accomplished tracks on the album, sounds both borrowed and fresh. The album closer “Química,” which features the members of Baltazar (Corcuera’s other band), releases something somewhat fascinating. With its singular sound aesthetics (a combination of pop traditions, mysticism and modernism), the rock hymn makes for an interesting finale.

From a first listen, the panorama presented by the style-hopping pop band might just seem like a flaunting of their musical pedigree. Yet, the feel quickly dissipate as it becomes clear the various genre incursions are all put to the service of the songs. More striking, however, is the consistency of the journey; the sequence of the pieces on Bahía Santiago is smooth and everything flows perfectly. Still it’s an album of beginnings of songs, not of apotheoses or grand finales. The best tracks reveal themselves in their first minute, which alone is enough to conquer.

CLUBZ – Épocas EP

There are moments in life where denying ourselves a good thing would only be foolish. Like when a collection of some the most exciting iberoamerican synthpop, electro and indie rock acts reinterpret one of our favorite singles of last year and its B-side, “Épocas” and “Ciclos” from the regiomontano pair, CLUBZ. Yes, the multiplication of remixes of one (or two) songs can dilute its potential. It can also blow up the possibilities, which is the case here.

Initially released in June of this year via the Barcelona based label Canadá Editorial, the maxi single included a remix of the two tracks by labelmates Extraperlo and El Último Vecino. Épocas EP re-released on Monday, is an extended version, which introduces renditions by producers Teen Flirt, Wet Baes and Raido and art-rock band Porter. Pulling in many directions, the EP could have easily been inconsistent, yet it remains a surprisingly effective creation. In fact, all remixes eventually merge through an atmosphere where the wistfulness of the sounds and the warmth of the rhythmic occurrences meet.

Épocas EP stands between two states, just like dawn or dusk, sweeping over melancholy and voluptuousness with velvety and hypnotic textures. The bold reincarnation of “Ciclos” by Porter, with its low-toned rhythmic melody and earthly flute arrangements, is an immediate highlight, yet upon repeated plays, Wet Baes’ hazy vaporwave re-score of “Épocas” also deserves a special mention.

Pedro LaDroga - "Pásatelo ke no me sale Na (Ela Quer SaSá)"

The Sevillano MC/Producer who never ceases to multiply the sonic and visual exertions – and who happens to be at the top of my list as one of the best acts of 2015 – recently dropped a couple of fresh tracks while we wait for the sequel to Hologram EP to see the light. Amongst the releases, "Pásatelo ke no me sale Na (Ela Quer SaSá)" stands out as one of LaDroga most exciting diversions. The half-freestyled half-written cut about the opposite sex and the ubiquitous green leaf is propelled by striking trap funkeiro and baile bass rhythms produced by Jaime Garcia, a beat builder going under the moniker Kryone and the founder of Morelia-based label, Pira.md Records. The video, a cooperative effort of artist Bore and LaDroga, consists of a collage of beach imagery, ADSL Settings, aliens, Street Fighter II’s Blanka, Soundcloud’s fonts and tags, and some lean. The complexly layered and edited soundscape –reminiscent of Sango’s Da Rocinha projects – leads the way for LaDroga to utter his Baudelairian spleen as he swiftly goes over his smoking habits and female encounters – ones that arouse doubt, hope, and finally nothing. The MC’s angst is once again a miraculous source of intense and rigorous creation.

Furland - Cuervos

Cuervos, Furland
Terrícolas Imbéciles, Mexico
Rating: 77
by Sam Rodgers

This album, Furland's second LP in five years, seems to have had an overlong gestation period, the band piquing interest with a glitch-like single in 2011's brilliantly promising "Faladó Fala", then almost disappearing altogether, leaving fans' expectations returning back and back to 2009's Historia De La Luz; an album buoyed by its folk-pop sensibilities, drawing hype at the time for being Mexico's answer to the genre. The long wait could be positive or detrimental to Cuervos' success, the band relying on its fan base as it simultaneously and obviously reaches for new, broader audiences - a fan base which may not have followed the same string of inspirations the band has themselves.

It's now December 2014, over a year since the first single from Cuervos - "Corazón Típico" - was released, which, again, seems over-the-top. However, time has proven to serve it well. At first listen, this was not the Furland who inhabited a world with the naive aesthetics and folksy banjo of tracks like "Quiero Ser Un Color", but an almost disappointingly straight-forward rock band. But over the following months of full album mystery, God help us if we couldn't shake the track's hooks out of the old noggin. One thing Furland has never purported to be was a band with loftier goals than pure pop: and, by definition, isn't pop a celebration of the most memorable and most universal of melodies? "Corazón Típico" delivered and then some, three minutes of exuberant, pop-blather feels, at once meaning nothing and everything if the mood was right. Following six months later was "Estar Solo", colouring the image of Furland as a black denim rock band pitching for the stadium rocker, but... not quite. With Sergio Silva's introspective lyrics and spirited timidity, "Estar Solo" becomes a kind of endearing melancholic rock anthem - a cry out to finally let go of someone while acknowledging ones codependency issues. It's like a little emo brother to that song a Disney queen sings on a mountainside.

Speaking of queens, after the one-two punch of the first singles, Furland seemed to mirror Javiera Mena's slow release of Otra Era. Like her "Espada" and "La Joya", "Corazón Típico" and "Estar Solo" were immediate and easy to digest, but it wasn't until "Otra Era" and Furland's "Quiero" that a more textured, nuanced new sound was introduced in the third singles, right before the album propers' release. In "Quiero" we find Furland revelling in that melancholia, layering it with electronic howls by aid of theremin, and restraining the balls out narrative of the aforementioned tracks. It spoke of more interesting sounds to come - of a band ready to play "rock band" on their own terms.

Now we have Cuervos - an album that presents us with a band not so much casting off the sounds of their previous releases, but one moving through and towards other inspirations, while retaining a firm hold on pop dramatics. Opening and title track rehashes Silva's taste for bells, and bridges old and new Furland sounds. "Cuervos" throws everything sonic into the mix, sometimes to the point of overwhelming itself, as does "El Rey del Tiempo", though both provide enough memorable moments. The rest of the album, on the other hand, is clear cut. There are tracks like towering beasts: so complete in the direction of hooks and melodies, you want to turn the volume up high and let them invade the neighbor's yard (see the Tame Impala-esque "Cardinales" and album closer "Fugaz"). Meanwhile, mid-album tracks "Nuestras Sombras" and "Fantasmas" seem half-baked in comparison, and the whistling on the former seems incongruous with the overall sound of the album, at least placed in the middle of it. The most sublime moment on the album comes when Furland take a song not even three minutes long - "Ciencia Perfecta" - and leave the listener wondering if it was hijacked and remixed by Daft Punk; the gear change still surprising on repeat listens.

And this is where Cuervos will be tested: who will listen to this on repeat? Will the vestiges of innocent pop be embraced by new rock fans, will the growling guitar licks be embraced by the folk-pop fans, and what sounds will the band explore next? Let's hope it's not as long in the making.

Video: Los Blenders - "Amigos"

After seeing them mix porn and surf, acid freak outs and boat rides, Los Blenders re-team with director Joey Muñoz for a more low-key and lo-fi clip in "Amigos." There's not much in the way of a treatment, daytime TV plus a trip to the beach make for some quality guy time, but it's a fitting look for a track that celebrates friendship (and/or cocaine). "Amigos" not only delivers Los Blenders' trademark scuzzy garage pop, but there's the added bonus from lyrics that give meaning to the phrase A poca barba, poca vergüenza pocos fucks given ("¿Cuántas llevo? No sé pero, bueno, dame otra"). That should be more than enough to hold us over until next month, when their long-awaited debut Chavos Bien is released via Barcelona label Tigre Discs.

Tony Gallardo II - "Mentiras"

Fresh from announcing the Apatía Nacional series, wherein we met the tropical crooner Johnny Dominicana, Tony Gallardo delivers "Mentiras," first single on the upcoming double release Juventud Guerrera / Hot Tropic. Whereas the last track "Trópico de Acuario" harkened back to the era of vinyl portrait covers and traditional romance, "Mentiras" forces us to enter Gallardo's restless and bitter psyche, accompanied by new wave beats (everything from El Último Vecino to Yellow Magic Orchestra) that jolt the listener and supply fresh wounds. Though the obvious verdict would designate this song for the club, it is still a Tony Gallardo production, which means blowing out your laptop speakers and crying in front of Photo Booth with a strobe light will get you there too.

Natalia Lafourcade - “Hasta la Raíz”

Any Natalia Lafourcade comeback single is surely welcomed around these parts, but a New Years Day premiere? Sit down Kanye and Macca, cause los Reyes Magos knew what I REALLY wanted this year. “Hasta la Raíz” is the first new original piece of music we’ve heard from Lafourcade since 2009’s divine Hu Hu Hu. Between that masterpiece and her Grammy-winning Agustin Lara-tribute, the criminally underrated Mujer Divina, the stakes are certainly high for Lafourcade’s next effort. And while “Hasta la Raíz” doesn’t sound like a bold step outward for Natalia (sounds more like something from Camila Moreno), there’s certainly no need to lower your expectations. At the least, “Hasta la Raíz” SOUNDS rich. If that Grammy’s gonna pay for anything, it’s gonna pay for a bigger budget, right?

Video + MP3: Los Blenders - "Chavos Bien"

The surprise success of Los Blenders' early EPs, namely last year's Meta y Dinero, has given what once Mexico's most overlooked band a well-earned spot as one of the most sought-after national acts. Anticipation is growing for their proper debut, and one would think this might be the chance to grow up, get serious and uphold that spot. Newest single "Chavos Bien" is a rejoinder that revels in the exact opposite: this is still proto porn pop and we love them for it.

Joey Muñoz directs the titular clip wherein the chavos amuse themselves full-on appropriating mirreyes culture- the most privileged and preppy of Mexican youth (stateside they invade Texas outlet malls in November to stock up on Lacoste and Ralph Lauren Polos). While this drug-fueled vision of ATV/boat rides and tennis playing is easily one of the funniest videos of the year, those images would be nothing if this wasn't also the summer's most quotable song: ("Vamos a comprarnos drogas / y después nos las metemos todas."). Right now, though, i'll probably be stuck on "FA / FA-FA-FA-FA-FA-FA" (8) for weeks. Equis.

Download the MP3 of "Chavos Bien" HERE.

Onda Temporal, Episodio Uno: Capullo

We start the unveiling of Onda Temporal, a 12-episode web series by Guerrero Negro featuring live performances from some of our favorite artists, with none other than our favorite pop group from Mexico: Capullo. As if there weren't enough reasons to love them, this clip makes Capullo more real, at least to those of us not lucky enough to have seen them live. They put the emoticons and virtual windows aside and allow director Carlos Matsuo into their personal space. Shot on a roof that seems to just have been showered by the sky, Capullo performs their rendition of Juan Gabriel and Rocio Durcal’s “Dejame Vivir” (with a second part featuring another cover of Los Ganglios). With all due respect to the gentlemen of Capullo, singers Cri Cornejo and Sandunga Mil really steal the show. When the ladies choose to walk away from the guys, they create the space to show their strong bond. Watch the rest of the Onda Temporal web series here at Club Fonograma during the next two weeks.

I Can Chase Dragons! - "Mañana"

Fellow writer Pierre Lestruhaut's recent observation on the nature of bloggers couldn't be more dead on, albeit, I'd add a point about music that looks too attractive. That's pretty much how Julio Gudiño's solo project I Can Chase Dragons! has been received here at the blog. Even as many sites gushed over his 2012 debut, we've remained skeptical, letting Expansión go un-reviewed as hype for the project took off.

Latest single "Mañana" arrives, once again, armed with all the bloggable fixings: sleek artwork, seal of approval from a respected label (Arts & Crafts Mexico), paired with an early summer release where one can already anticipate its inclusion on a Nylon+Urban Outfitters playlist next to style guides about the best music festival looks. The good news is "Mañana" won't leave the same gross feelings from seeing tribal pattern skirts, it's a bouncy and light entry that's also genuinely fun.

Mixing straightforward samples, steel drums, and echoes of house, Gudiño never commits to cranking up either one of these elements. It works because the constant movement recreates touristic impressions of busy streets and crowded squares, which at times can be more exciting than the destination.

MP3: Tony Gallardo II - "Innervision"

It is fair to say now that expectations have become really high anytime Antonio Gallardo's artistic personas delivers some kind of new material. And I would say that Club Fonograma was one of the first webzines that risked to guarantee this continuing growth in Gallardo's career ever since his exceptional debut Espíritu Invisible in 2010 under his moniker of María y José. Now as one of the top electronic acts not only in Mexico but also in the Latin American electronic scene, Tony Gallardo accomplishes to stay deeply embedded on working and mastering his sounds without being overrated.

As it was teased earlier this year, Tony Gallardo II was being resurrected from its torment and today the Tijuana kid (is he still a kid?) delivers the first track from his upcoming release Deep Wow. "Innervision" encapsulates Gallardo's best, broadly encompassing whatever falls between techno and no wave. This is nightmare music, culled from both sleep and waking consciousness. There are times when I can't help but feel like I've heard everything worth listening to. Over the years, I've grown to expect little from new music, succumbing to the post-modern suggestion that everything has been done before. But when I listen to something as wildly unpredictable as "Innervision," I can't help but feel like there could be something new around the corner.
 

Fuck Her, Or The Terrorists Win - What Is Hurt?

What Is Hurt?, Fuck Her, Or The Terrorists Win

Delhotel Records, Mexico

Rating: 75

by Sam Rodgers

After two EPs, Monterrey "hipsters"/hipsters Roberto Polo and Roger Camara have finally released a full length, the cheekily titled What Is Hurt? As the band name suggests, these guys love straddling the line between seriousness and the posturing of it – a forma de ser for the eleven (plus two bonus) tracks (available at bandcamp) that either comes off as relentlessly self-conscious, or outright irreverent fun – depending on the overall pop-sensibility they've chosen. And 'choice' is perhaps the best way to describe the genesis of FHOTTW's music: whether it's the choice between singing in English or Spanish, or what genre homage they choose to add to the scrapbook, the band builds collage-like songs, the cracks of which are audible – mostly in a good way. These cracks show a band who bounce ideas of a song around: let's play with a jarring tempo change! What about Spanglish! Let's see who spots our influences in this track!

Take the one cover song on the album: 'Sueño de sombras' by Julieta Venegas, from her magnum opus, Bueninvento. Certainly not that album's most celebrated track, and yet, Polo and Camara have chosen the one track 'true' fans of Venegas would no doubt agree was that album's most bittersweet, lush, would-be single moment. Much in the same way Venegas saw Juan Gabriel's 'Siempre en mi mente' as a power ballad about inner torture of epic proportions, rather than the original's simple love letter. We digress. Their take on 'Sueño de sombras' is an ode to Venegas – not much of the original arrangement has changed – just updated for this decade: glittery synths create the dreaminess instead, and the lyrical mood fits well with the themes of the rest of the album; most notably the awkwardness of starting out in love and lust.

Opening track 'Ghosts' confronts these themes blatantly, the lyrics a retelling of a story about a girl that got away before she was anything more meaningful to the protagonist. Thankfully, there's no self-righteous mopiness: “So then I tried to find her / but never seemed to get too far / Coz when I met her, I was drunk / and thought her name was Anne.” This self-awareness saves potential cloyingness, but can sometimes come off a little pretentious – for example, later in the song, calling it “the Facebook” – although, the sentiment never feels forced. Highlight, 'Sudden Enemy', showcases the upbeat tone of the band with the album's crux emotion, frustration, perfectly – reminiscent of Swedish ex-duo The Tough Alliance's at once flippant youthfulness and pent-up posing. Similarly, FHOTTW delight in the appearance of toughness: look no further than the nod to Michael Jackson's 'Bad'-era strut on single, 'Cave'.

A manifesto of not taking themselves too seriously costs the album a cohesion a more 'serious' band would strive for. Yet at the same time, Polo and Camara invite the listener to play with them – never structuring a song outside of a pop one: these are musicians in love with all facets of music-that-has-come-before. Realising that you're part of this experimentation, makes FHOTTW much more enjoyable.

El Mañana – Muertos

Muertos, El Mañana

Fanclub Records, Mexico

Rating: 71

by Marty Preciado

Fernando de Buen, singer-songwriter and front man of El Mañana currently based in Chicago, released Muertos, his LP debut under Fanclub Records, based in Mexico City. To fully understand and grasp the concept of Muertos it’s important to backtrack three years. In 2011, El Mañana released their debut EP under Discos Cuchillo. Back then, the EP acted as a defining hallmark to their sound: noise bathed in synths.

Muertos remains loyal to its noise but undergoes a subtle transformation, this time it’s primarily based and deeply rooted in folk music. However, there are no strings attached to the folk genre. The album breaks music paradigms with its unexpected turns. Positively speaking, it feels as if it is a long drive on a flat road and, after countless miles, it hits a sharp turn, agitating one to a different scenario.

“Para Morir” is a perfect example of the aforementioned. The song immediately starts off with vocals on an acoustic guitar. It delivers raw composition, no effects. Yet, as soon as one is comfortably becoming accustomed to harmonious vocals and to its downbeat guitar chords, the unexpected turn comes into the song. We experience a Lynch-esque eerie buildup noise of pedal effects and sliding guitar. An unexpected finale, it breaks its composition, steps outside of its aesthetic boundary. And it’s exactly this musical turn that has made Muertos a pleasant surprise.

“Lentamente,” aggressively positions itself and paves the sound for the rest of the album, serving as the musical backbone and identity for the upcoming songs. The opening track has ideal credentials; little over eight minutes bathed in open-heart and emotionally felt lyrics with noise and folk colliding with each other. It’s a mad scientist lab, experimenting sounds and creating new formulas, with jaw-dropping results.

Eight tracks, three years later, under a new label and with great ambition, El Mañana delivers an album that holds an enigmatic aura, it stays away from solemn patterns and beautifully exerts a mature identity through a wide array of meticulous composition and fine musical arrangement. Muertos is raw and honest; it’s a whisper in the dark, the remaining ray of light in the crumbling of the night.

Turning Torso - Plasma EP

Since the release of last year's fine Camaleón EP, Turning Torso (the one man project of Querétaro's experienced producer David Sánchez) has become an example of appealing consistency and captivating originality. The homogeneous coherency of his latest artworks adequately matches the sophisticated textures to be encountered in his spellbinding sound offerings. His previous single, Siempre, suggested full embrace of The Field's icy techno soundscapes. Nevertheless, the four-track Plasma EP rewards us with Turning Torso's greatest gestures— blood-pumping beats, jazz fusion à-la Squarepusher, stellar progressions worthy of Mount Kimbie's catalogue, plus many more qualities —through fitting segmentation that spiffs up the whole thing. Plasma (his second release on PIR▲.MD Records) is as deliciously tasteful as Teen Flirt's hot Promises & Float EP. It truly functions as an entry point to Sánchez's entire oeuvre, absorbingly exposing his architectural craftsmanship and overpowering virtuosity at his best.

MP3: Capullo - “No Pases Más Por Mí”

Some things change, some things stay the same. Lucky for us, Capullo’s comeback single indicates their preference for the latter. “No Pases Más Por Mí” is an almost by-the-numbers Capullo track: 4/4 beat, glitchy sound effects, pop signifiers (e.g. hand claps), and disinterested vocals. Not that this means the band doesn’t have the spark—if anything, it’s a logical next step from the underrated Testigos del Fin del Mundo. To think that Capullo can still make something that sounds so effervescent and yet effortless bodes well for their next album. But please: turn up the noise with the next single, guys. Download the MP3 of the track via Soundcloud.

Los Mundos - Retroterapia

Retroterapia, Los Mundos
Sour Pop Records/Casete, Mexico
Rating: 80
by Enrique Coyotzi

Los Mundos set in motion a flourishing career with their convincing self-titled album, a collection of 11 cacophonous pieces that hinted at grandiosity, yet never fully bloomed into real transcendence. The band’s been quite active ever since. In the past two years, they've presented a couple of tight EPs that showed them adapting new versions of their early songs (Mi Propia Banda Quiero Ver) and covering bands that have undeniably defined their sound (Regalando Todo). However, the real task was a sophomore album that didn't feel as unvarying as their debut. Don’t get me wrong, I love the first record, but Retroterapia truly represents the ample canvas eagerly expected from Alejandro “Chivo” Elizondo and Luis Ángel Martínez. Improving their long-distance songwriting formula, Retroterapia finds the duo displaying a gorgeous throwback of delightful compositional dexterity and impossibly amusing lyrics, culminating in the glorious pairing of two of Mexico’s most offbeat minds into full creative synergy.

The first half of Retroterapia stands out as a robust smasher, a vigorous portrayal of splendid songwriting skills dressed by filthy abrasiveness, whimsical self-reflection, and plenty of cranky wit. Opening tracks “Todo te Cobran” and “El Peor” establish a bombastic start, showing the ensemble back in full form. “Mirar Sucio” and “Mini Shorts” are both sexy as fuck. The former is dominated by a powerful guitar riff, which, reinvigorated by Martínez’s I’m-definitely-gonna-fuck-you inviting words, marks the horniest declaration of the band so far. The latter, through its Blur-esque development and giggly, not-as-explicit remarks, flirts with sexually-infused, provocative fashion showoff curiosity. Initial promotional cuts, “Lentes Mágicos,” where Chivo undergoes a spaced-out magic visual trip relying on some pedal shit, and “666,” where Martínez understands how to make a song inspired by the number of the beast a hilarious success (few lines like “Escupiendo flema de color” and “Levitando en tu habitación” commit such comical stretch while remaining so disturbingly dark), are damn rewarding as well.

The second half might appear slightly limp, but not less substantial. Our heroes test the widest ranges of their dreamy textures in tracks like “El Mundo se Viene” and “Retroterapia.” Here, Los Mundos not only conjure majestic walls of sound and a variety of must-get-out-of-your-chest emotions, they also challenge the listener with serious climatic territories that launch the being into some kind of zen state. This characteristic particularly gleams in closer “Eco en la Luz,” an instrumental as exceptional and full of possibilities as El Columpio Asesino’s “MDMA.” On an unconvincing side, it’s notable how the less accomplished takes are the ones regarding pets. “Gato Buena Onda” and “Abraza un Perro,” while nicely executed, stand on the verge of irrelevance and forgettable. Nevertheless, these stumbles aren't much of a blow to Retroterapia. Especially when you have such an outstanding hit like “Morir es Aburrido,” spelling “The Passenger” all over its charming chords.

It seems like Los Mundos’ discourse is finally acquiring some necessary roundness. Retroterapia may carry its flaws, but they ultimately end up overshadowed by the LP's own distinctive energy and alluring delivery, nurtured via the exploration of broader subgenres. Truth is, with this reference—an irrefutable testament that exposes their noteworthy stateliness—they have reaffirmed themselves as an essential force that’s translating many great ideas into magnificent pop tunes, paving a privileged, not-to-be-missed trail in the process.

Siete Catorce - EP2

EP2, Siete Catorce
NAAFI, Mexico
Rating: 82
by Enrique Coyotzi

Ever since moving to Distrito Federal in June, the 20-year old prolific Marco Polo Gutiérrez, better known as Siete Catorce, went from being Mexicali’s best kept secret to Mexico’s most talked about producer. His arrival to the capital was a game changer—a crucial event which shook the local independent and electronic community. Throwing almost every weekend surpassing shows heavily charged by stamina, Gutiérrez logically attracted fast interest, instituting his arcane yet welcoming sound on the tongue of tastemakers, colleagues and newly-converted fans.

Ruidosón’s youngest exponent is an unstoppable, youthful prodigy. Simultaneously working on many completely opposite but just as relevant side projects (Den5hion, Sin Amigos, Ignxrnce, amongst others), the ingenious boy has enjoyed major success while embarking seriousness under the Siete Catorce pseudonym. Unlike his eerie but still highly upbeat first EP (which was backed by a unsettling tale of the artist murdering his entire family), Siete Catorce goes into gloomier, regularly depressive spaces in the sturdy EP2 (his strongest release so far, along with this year’s Un EP Irrelevante as Den5hion), whose progressive production manifests growth, vision and freakish craftsmanship through far reaching guapachoso rhythms mixed with avant-garde soundscapes.

The 6 tracks comprising EP2 are searing. Each of them effectively evokes a series of disturbingly high-strung emotions (from desperation, to anger, to fury) whilst properly injecting the listener the yearning of non-stop dancing. It may not result as immediately engaging as Siete's previous reference. However, repeated listens clearly define said assortment as a step forward into a more mature direction, where mental bad trips plus physical agitation operate as something natural. From its spacious introduction to its detonation into horror cumbia, the feverish opener “Flor de Lirio” sets the frenzied mood. Coincidentally (or intentionally?) clocking at 4:20, the marching, tribal-fueled, pill-appetizer “Roche Dos” atmospherically fucks the listener’s mind, affecting like a heavy THC hit. “Éter” and “Perdido” nervously trace Siete’s penetrating melancholic notes, acquiring abstruse emotional connection thanks to his instinctive talent for juxtaposing moody environments with full-blooded tempos. On the other hand, “Verdad,” with its Televisa-opening sample that progressively gets clearer, and “Somnolencia,” set across an enveloping build up that derives into nostalgic cognizance, bring out the EP’s sharp distressing angle.

Everything points that Siete Catorce’s career is destined to take off into even larger heights. Not only has he proven to be a one of a kind revelation, the skillful visionary’s also settled a standard of execution, idiosyncrasy and inventiveness pretty difficult to be matched. Fact is, it doesn’t seem crazy to state that with the prominent EP2, Gutiérrez (who's already preparing a third installment) has, for sure, dethroned Erick Rincón as Mexico’s youngest, smartest and most forward-thinking producer.