The keystone for electronic music (perhaps for any music) is to succeed in creating something like an interiority without succumbing to some sort of hermetic art. El sueño de la casa propia’s vibrant and cohesive elemental landscape illustrates that principle, providing something perhaps a bit more “human” to a genre that can sometimes be too intellectual or abstract. “Color Piel,” which was released on our latest compilation, Papasquiaro, gives a glimpse at José Manuel Cerda's further exploration of undefined shapes, textures and resonance, but always with greater ambience and confidence. Without saying a word, Cerda deftly translates the reality of a multi-facetted, polymorphous contemporary identity. The sonic collage of chops and glitches leaves the abiding impression of a distant memory creating a universal truth beyond time and place.
Were the folks at Michita Rex actually counting on the world to end in 2012? Up until a few months ago (thanks to solid releases from ESDLCP and Samanta), output from the Chilean netlabel had slowed down at an upsetting rate, admittedly causing us to either lose interest or forget about the many highlights first sampled on Música para el fin del mundo. Now that they’re back in the swing of things, we’re eager to finally hear new material from a growing list of Michita “bands to watch,” starting with Midiset.
On the follow-up to their synth-flexing jewel “Rebaje de Ipanema” Midiset tap further into their dance leanings with “Lobo.” The shimmering restraint that opens the track reads like the first taste of freedom for a creature raised in captivity. While we observe the precarious challenge of adjusting to this new life, the song unravels against some breathtaking sights—a panoramic buildup set to a pantropical beat. Coinciding with its feral transformation is something of an antithesis to “En la naturaleza.” Nature is neither cruel nor hostile; it does what it does, but that can also sometimes be beautiful. Grab the single below, and download the maxi-single featuring reworks by Diegors, Megajoy, and others.
When discussing Chilean producer José Manuel Cerda’s El sueño de la casa propia project, its very own beginnings are rarely referred to. Although official discographies will cite 2006's Hogar as being the first record published by ESDLCP, Cerda himself has revealed he considers 2010's freakishly gorgeous Historial de caídas his actual debut. Hogar isn’t a bad record by any means but, to be honest, it carries the amateurish imprint of a musician that was only starting to toy with electronic gadgetry. Cerda neither likes nor identifies with the sounds in Hogar, finding it "a little too post-rock." For a man who also claimed Valparaíso’s musical scene seriously lacked pop, it’s no surprise that for his latest short-form release, Doble ola, his aesthetic is becoming increasingly hook-centric, even if his modus operandi remains in the vein of glitchy sample-fueled electronica.
Most writing associated with this brand of sample-based music will outline its merit on the basis of conceptual coherence and stylistic consistency—the piracy as composition of plunderphonics, the anarcho-capitalist Muzak twisting of vaporwave, or the ghoulish “old-timeyness” of hauntology—but rarely engages the subject of the music’s own listenability. Even at its utmost ear-candy configuration (The Go! Team, The Avalanches, Bibio), concept and style are ingrained as the nexus of the music’s own appeal. By contrast, ESDLCP manages to stand out by working precisely within the confines of listenability. In focusing on providing moments of truly audacious beauty, it completely throws away any sort of conceptualization that could be made of it.
The glitchy manner in which Cerda has always manipulated and presented his samples could also see words like “noise-influenced” being associated to ESDLCP. The first 20 seconds of “Balbina” come as close to noise as anything else in Doble ola, but by the time the piano arpeggios hit the surface there isn’t a single doubt remaining: José Manuel Cerda isn’t here to indulge in fist-fucking your ears, he’s here to give you a 4-minute session of continuous eargasms. Nowhere else will the EP aim for such luxury, but it’s top-notch sequencing makes it so that the climax is not only reached after just the ideal amount of foreplay (the catchiness/dance conflation of “Caen Rocas,” the guitar licks/marimba ethereal combo of “Peinados de fuego”), but also given its due period of relaxation (leisurely paced, flute-sampling “Pobre Ave”).
I used to differ with Andrew Casillas' definition of ESDLCP’s sound in his Historial de Caídas review, in which he stated that "there's nothing really original about El sueño de la casa propia." How could something so sonically unique not be original at all? But I’ve gradually come to believe every time more that José Manuel Cerda’s brand of glitchy vocal chops et al. aren’t really that innovative or forward-thinking at all. Just like another one of my favorite albums of 2013 so far, Justin Timberlake’s The 20/20 Experience, the glistening surface that distinguishes it (in JT's case, 8-minute long pop songs) might trick some ears into buying it as some sort of forward-thinking opus. In reality, it functions because its own ambitions never stray too far from the ends of pleasure and listenability, because it’s hook-centric music as paradisal sonic escape.
Which is why trying to discuss the work José Manuel Cerda Castro in the context of Latin American electronica feels a bit pointless. Standing at the margin of both Latin folk-infused electronica and new world techno, ESDLCP is still confidently owning its own private island of holy-fucking-shitdom, holding sway over weird-as-fuck Latin American electronic music territory. Three years after wondering how Cerda could possibly follow such an out-of-nowhere success like Historial de Caídas, he seems to have shrugged off the two main follow-up album clichés: Doble ola is neither a safe continuation, nor a risky rupture. It’s actually more of a question mark. It leaves us wondering if this is the snack that will keep us satiated for a little while, or the sugar-coated dessert that’s closing off a well-rounded meal.
“Peso,” the first single from Los Embajadores’ debut album, Faisanes, has gotten a sensual video treatment by notorious director Rosario González. Properly described by fellow writer Giovanni Guillén as “a song that confronts the weight of the world with serious restraint, then progresses into a celestial time-lapse,” this wonderful effort still resounds even more so after every listen. Resembling Michael Haneke’s The Piano Teacher, the clip encounters singer Danaé Morales finalizing a probably long and exhausting journey with a visit to the porn cinema. It turns out melancholic and dramatic. Followed by a mysterious guy (band member Cristóbal Gajardo aka Voz de Hombre) from the mall through the city’s streets until getting to the movies, the denouement of this visual accomplishment is overwhelming. After witnessing Morales’ serene crying exalted by the screen projection's light, we can’t help to doubt and question if the character's wishes (whatever they are) will be fulfilled, if this is actually a happy ending.
Diving deeper into his thrilling solo project, Nueva Orleans, visionary video director (and half of De Janeiros and Dënver) Milton Mahan transports the listener to a paradisiacal water world in “Mediterráneo.” The stellar bubbling synth-pop cut, released via Michita Rex, is taken from his upcoming first release. Commanding the whole destructive force of the sea, Mahan covers the ocean’s mysteries within this brutal avalanche that once it fully takes off, expels heat and melts icebergs, tracing a luminous spot for lost, uncharted souls. Leaving behind the chillwave-y vibe of some of his previous tracks, Mahan introduces a more straightforward delivery—pop grandiosity at its best. Structured by pleasantly anesthetic beats, intensely sentimental synth lines, an ornamental whale-crying effect, and Mahan's distinctly adolescent voice singing, "Mediterráneo" is built around such a profound mystique yet immediate impact that not falling for it is impossible.
Danae Morales has a voice that naturally lends itself to fragile, urgent pop ballads. Her heartbreaking performance in the brilliant “El sol” by Niños del Peru illustrated emotional defeat while advancing a loose narrative on two compilations concerned with “ the end.” The end of an era on Los Herederos (the final Fonogramáticos) and the end of the world on Michita Rex’s Música para el fin del mundo.
“Peso,” the first proper single from Los Embajadores, shows Morales channeling the same fragility that marked “El sol” but with a newfound strength thanks to the aid of some beautiful and focused production from other band members, including Cristóbal Gajardo of Voz de Hombre. This is a song that confronts the weight of the world with serious restraint, then progresses into a celestial time-lapse. Pure joy. Los Embajadores will soon release Faisanes, their debut LP, and “Peso” has quickly converted it into one of the most anticipated records for 2012.
December approaches and, in our landscape of music junkies and media publishers, it means it’s time to sit down to contemplate best of the year lists. Among the many names that put out debut albums this year, Chilean indie sweetheart Fakuta seems like a sure bet to attain ranking omnipresence across the Americas and overseas. The closing piece and second single off Al Vuelo has been given the audiovisual treatment in an exquisitely framed and remarkably nuanced roadtrip by directors Pablo Muñoz and Rosario González (who were as whimsical in the clip for "Armar y Desarmar"). In this video, Fakuta & The Laura Palmers, in full coalition with the directors, take the concept of “ascending without fear” to heart by merging aerial imagery with seemingly ephemeral vignettes from the road. Even more absorbing than the beautiful polar scenery is the composition of the gangster-looking ensemble, particularly in the elaborate narrative use of that gorgeous wardrobe.
Al Vuelo, Fakuta Michita Rex, Chile Rating: 88 by Enrique Coyotzi
Fakuta’s eminent, forward-thinking debut, Al Vuelo, is without a doubt Club Fonograma’s most anticipated pop album of the year. It's a magnificent work constituted by ravishing pieces, precisely built under a meticulous architectonic conception. Moving away from pop music traditionalism and concentrating on musical form (like compatriots Dënver or Maifersoni), Pamela Sepúlveda has consecrated herself as the main exponent of the Michita Rex netlabel, which has amazed us with a varied family of constantly surprising, intriguing artists. In a year where guitar-driven acts have dominated our radar, Al Vuelo’s intricate playfulness, larger than life audacity, and math pop grandiosity, arrives like a deep breath of sweet, fresh air.
Although the recording process lasted two years, Fakuta is no stranger to the DIY scene. She’s one of the widest known personas in the Chilean indie circuit, having taken part in groups like Golden Baba and El Banco Mundial, being one of the most lauded newcomers by unquestionably credible sources like Gepe and Javiera Mena, and heading her home label during 2010. Fakuta has had music bloggers drooling ever since we heard her first impressive demos (check out the organic take of “Armar y Desarmar” included in our seventh compilation, Los Colores No Dejan de Sonar) and her unique theatrical live presentations beside the inseparable The Laura Palmers, a trio of chorus girls (named after a catalytic character of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks) who resemble The Ronettes or The Supremes in an opposite, obscure manner. Assisted by De Janeiros’ superb production, Fakuta’s carefully fabricated futuristic vision reaches enviable heights, making Al Vuelo an essential tour de force for any true lover of exceptional, cerebral pop craftsmanship.
While this isn’t the type of pop music you will often hear on the radio, Sepúlveda’s radiant compositions are accessible enough to guarantee her a few hits. Pink on the surface but heart-wrenching in its message, first single “Armar y Desarmar” is delicately constructed, starting peacefully, then unraveling in a natural way until the song becomes a head-nodding celebration embellished by heavenly choruses and cotton candy harmonies. In the album’s outstanding numbers, “Estrella” and “Segundando," Fakuta effectuates interesting changes in the mid-section of the tracks; when they have acquired a certain pattern of structure, the songstress throws an unforeseen melody in her synthesizer, which comes out of nowhere but functions magically, adding a completely contrary tone.
As a contemporary industrialized version of well-known copla popular “El Patio de Mi Casa," the cartoonish “Mi Casa” delivers childhood nostalgia emphasized by the employment of string and brass instruments. “Las Partes” is disturbing, noisy industrial pop, like stepping inside a monstrous factory of penetrating colorful sound. The sublime tears generator “Virreinatos” is probably my favorite song of the whole thing. Like dubstep wunderkind James Blake, Fakuta values space and silence, extracting gems out of these qualities. A melancholic realization about how at times we believe we’re indestructible as a fortress (“¿cómo es que tu imperio no ha de caer?”), the glitch fragility of “Virreinatos” is boundless.
Ending a long, anxious wait, Al Vuelo is a masterful breakthrough which possesses the chances to harvest international success. Longtime Fakuta followers will most likely be already familiarized with the majority of these songs, since live recordings have been floating around on YouTube for a while, but every track is executed with current freshness that it seems incredible they’ve been in gestation for such a long time. With its mesmerizingly clever compositions, the blissful majesty that is Al Vuelo will position Fakuta in the line of cream of the crop of Chilean stars, in the meantime bringing us transcendental anthems of monumental proportions.
Hombre Solo, Voz de Hombre Michita Rex, Chile Rating: 79 by Pierre Lestruhaut
For those who listened to the Michita Rex compilation Música para el fin del mundo last month, it’s no mystery that this young Chilean netlabel is becoming the home of a group of artists that’s as diverse as it is intriguing. A year and a half after the label’s first ever release you can feel its artists evolving, some of its most interesting experimenters refining their sound after solid 2010 releases (Maifersoni, De Janeiros), its dark pop enthusiasts having us yearning for a full-length release (Fakuta, Los Embajadores), and some new interesting projects continue to appear (Costavisión). Among the novelties that we heard on their catalog was also Voz de Hombre, the solo project of Cristóbal Gajardo, who happens to be the voice of Los Embajadores.
Though lately many of our favorite releases from Chile have been using disco as their ground for crafting great pop songs, Voz de Hombre’s first release, Hombre Solo, displays a different concept for creating great timeless pop music. Like many of the “michitos," Gajardo sets his music’s backbone on a ground constituted by minimal techno and its child branches of electronic music in order to give birth to songs that are traditional in structure and interpretation. Just think James Blake or Jamie Woon and all the talk there’s been about them reworking dubstep around traditional song forms and you’re actually not too far from what Gajardo’s doing here.
Initial track “Son cosas de las cosas” sees him crooning over an R&B groove and manipulated vocal harmonies (did I already mention those British dudes and their weird take on dubstep?), its appeal not necessarily lying in his song-writing abilities but more on its interpretation’s nakedness. In “Allá no es él” Gajardo shows off his first dance-floor intentions, an infectious chillwave bass line meets an elegant croon for what could pass for a less nostalgic and far more nuanced (even obscure) take on the very derided chillwave genre. “Te siento inglés” is built around the sampling of Morrisey’s “Late Night Moudlin Street," but the song doesn’t just stop at loop-oriented pop as it expands itself beyond the sampled beat and finds its way into a textured synth-driven piece that, alongside Loreto Molina’s (Namm) vocals, focuses and finds its main appeal on variation instead of repetition.
Also worth mentioning is “Para tenerte otra vez," a Chayanne cover that could be dismissed as outright accommodation of Latin pop music for the interest of snobbish audiences, but also appreciated as a subtle nod to the heavy use of vocal manipulation by indie artists in the last few years, going from Karin Dreijer Andersson to Bon Iver. Because, in the end, Hombre Solo is the kind of album that manages to display a personal vision of pop music amidst a great deal of nods and references to other types of music, a release that can only make us feel more hopeful for the future of the idiosyncratic roster of the Michita Rex label.
Remezcla Musica’s nice label-curated mix series premiered Michita Rex’s second compilation early this week and, after a few spins, we can already say it’s even better thanVolumen Uno. Música para el fin del mundo: Vol.2 arrives just in time for the Judgment Day theories (there are billboards invading our highways all over the states). If the world was to end tomorrow as they say, then let Michita Rex guide you until the very end. In barely a year of existence, the label has released some of the most exciting new music on the continent, and the future looks very promising (Fakuta’s debut album is Club Fonograma’s most anticipated record for the rest of the year).
If the first compilation was a phenomenal sampler of what Michita would sound like, Vol. 2 is the family’s referendum on how they actually sound. Some highlights include Samanta’s cherished and pastoral “Ropa Nueva," Fakuta’s dreamy new song “Al Vuelo,” and “Viento Andino” by new Ecuadorian inductee Costavision. Our favorite numbers almost brought us to tears (see: Los Embajadores’ “Compañia del Novio” and Maifersoni’s thrilling “Andina”). With virtually not a single irregular track on the album, Michita Rex's forthcoming catalog looks impressive to say the least.
Soundscape horizon-expander Maifersoni (Enrique Elgueta) is back with yet another mesmeric clip for one of the standout tracks from his structure-defying debut Telar Deslizante (Michita Rex, 2010). As opposed to most experimental videos (typically for experimental songs), “Caterpilar” doesn’t compress its data into a form or a moving window; it amplifies the poetry of the larva to an even broader grassland. This is a skill of the high-fidelity pedigree by video director Rosario González who seems to understand Michita Rex’s artists like very few people can. Any other avaricious filmmaker would’ve taken the easy path (romanticizing the Caterpillar-meets-Butterfly image), she instead, embraces the physicality of the song making an ultrasound of the caterpillar’s sonic appendages. This is the third music clip from González for the label, following the equally intriguing and analog-based pieces “Montreal” (De Janeiros) and “Armar y Desarmar” (Fakuta).
One of our 2011’s artists to watch, and already a serious candidate for debut album of the year, Fakuta finally offers us her first single and video with the already highly adored “Armar y Desarmar”. Directed by Rosario González and Pablo Muñoz, enthusiasts of Chilean pop who brought us Al Unísono, a documentary about Gepe and Javiera Mena’s beginnings as well as the video for Dënver’s “Estilo de Vida”. Now the couple seems to have already developed a visual style of their own by outlining the relationship between their characters (either attraction, indifference or aversion) through the exploration of their surrounding reduced spaces, along with the creation of an evident contrast supported by the superficial details of clothing and makeup.
About the song itself, there's probably not too much to add, plenty had already been said about Fakuta’s ability to arm and disarm the song’s structure while singing about it when it was featured last year, she just seems to have stripped it down to its core elements this time. But when listened conjointly with the video, Fakuta seems to engage a lot more in the purpose of portraying the fate of the recurring tale of teenage betrayal and disbelief, allowing us to appreciate her music through a dramatic lens rather than a study of musical form. And of course, her always captivating Kate Bush-like vocal melodies manage to accentuate her qualities as a restrained story-teller.
The "Armar y Desarmar" single will be available for free download via MICHITA REX later today, featuring great remixes from Augias Amena, Ulises Hadjis, among others.
Before listening to Dadalú’s debut album Período, there weren’t many clues as to what to expect from it, but almost everyone agreed it was bound to be special (even if out-of-control). For better or for worst, Daniela Saldias is the kind of individual that can easily jump from style to style, from one genre to the next; in the past, her eclectic spectrum has seen the light of ska, indie rock, rap, electropop, and even stand-up comedy.
After several years of anticipation, and working on other projects (most notably Coléctivo Etéreo), in 2010 the world had its first taste of Dadalú’s solo career, in the form of the absolute killer single "Gracias." A knockout single that in just 3 minutes, proved that Dadalú was succesfully developing a style of her own, far from her work in the past. You could feel an incredible shifting pace in her flow, a stream of consciousness in her rhyming, & the use of jazzy playful melodies to surround her lyrical virtue. And in an extremely uncharasteric fashion for either hip-hop or pop music, Dadalú appeared to be singing to gratitude, as it was said earlier in Club Fonograma: “reuniting her skills and sharp style to put on a modern (and very personal) template of appreciation.”
But now in her debut album Período, she manages to display her palette of influences way beyond the soulful orchestration of the outstanding single. Infectious synth lines, heavy jazzy strings, and dance-pop appeal predominate throughout the album. The idea of condensing such an eclectic array of sounds into one album is compelling, and risky. Yet Dadalú's seldom succeeds at it. For instance her attempts at writing dance-pop anthems works very well in the case of “Brilla”, even if she’s far from the appeal and elegance of the chilean dance-pop juggernauts of 2010 that were Mena and Dënver. But there's also much room for improvement in the composition department; while the nu-jazzy pieces shine, the more ska-ish pieces feel a bit like unnecessary wild fillers (far from the grandiose debut single).
On the other hand, lyrically speaking, with a name like Período, one could expect a bit of female pathology to be pulling the album’s strings. Its first half is indeed driven by the thematics of failure and frustration, like the humorous post-adolescent cry of facing the complications of the real world in “Se necesita vendedora”. And at the same time she loses herself with exhausting rants of confusion and complication - that from a male perspective - I can only guess are probably related to “those days”. But Dadalú succeeds a lot better later on in her joyful portraits of finding your better half in “Brilla” and “Te quiero tanto”. In this last one she refinds the orchestration style of “Gracias”, but now uses it at the service of beautiful pop balladry, weaving the excitement of her declaration of love around the soulful brass melodies that blend in perfectly with her teenage and innocent voice.
An extremely difficult album to categorize, Período ends up being more like Dadalú condensating most of her influences in a 10-track-30-minute record format, than trying to settle on one particular genre or idea. Even if all of her attemps at diversifying this record aren’t as rewarding as we might have expected, it’s still a very compelling concept, and a solid debut in the solo career of a talented singer/rapper/comedian/songwriter with an already considerable body of work.
Maifersoni’s form-defying debut Telar Deslizante is one of the albums that set the tone of the Michita Rex catalogue last year. Chilean electronic guru Enrique Elgueta is a craftsman of all sorts and has the receptivity of a videomaker. It’s not a huge surprise to see his name on the video credits of “Nómade”, which is also his most accessible track yet. The elements of South American folklore Maifersoni embeds into his music is remarkable, and even if you’re unaware of them, the lyrics will get you there. The video’s blurry editing and colorful transcoding capture the track’s beauty (I’ve always imagined it as the collapsing sound of an old train). While “Nomade” combusts in texture and sonic tissue, the visual confounded elements & the animation come in, adding up to a South American folkloric experience, a truly visual ecstasy.
When I downloaded Andrea Roca’s Arar EP, the genre tag that came up in my iTunes was “pop gore de la periferia.” Now, I normally trust anything endorsed by Michita Rex, but that tag made me wonder what I was getting myself into. I was bracing myself for some rattling chains, clicking heels, branches scratching on window glass-type experimental obscurity. I’ll admit I was a little scared, but mostly I was really intrigued.
The genre tag was misleading, though. Instead of the conceptual and difficult to digest upon first listen music that I expected, what I got was four gorgeous ambient songs. “Buenos Salvajes” is beautiful track that starts off serenely with bird chirps, like an early morning at Walden Pond. And that’s really what the song feels like, like waking with the birds at dawn and breathing in the fresh air and just allowing yourself to be a part of it all. Roca’s voice is full and enveloping, while still being soft and tranquil and in perfect harmony with the minimal instrumentation. Even the brief entrance of the drum machine near the end, though it should be jarring and feel out of place, integrates seamlessly into the song’s storyline.
Telar Deslizante, Maifersoni Michita Rex, Chile Rating: 71 By Carlos Reyes
Any kind of abstract expression is better appreciated when there’s texture involved, starting with the fact that surface alone is hard to scratch. Maifersoni’s debut album Telar Deslizante has the consistency of a pile of grain in the loom, an album hard to describe. It isn’t really fair to speak about it in terms of layers or chops; it’s more of a carefully crafted mess with skuzzy to breath-taking ideas. This album is also emblematic to its label Michita Rex, which despite only having a few releases on their catalog, can already claim to have its own audiovisual aesthetic.
Like many experimental records, Telar Deslizante defies the idea of a pop record. The notion that every non-classical record is a pop album is outrageous to say the least; artists can make albums with personal non-linear structures and triumph. Think of Animal Collective and then Emilio Jose, yet you’re nowhere near Maifersoni’s sonic compass. The album opens with a wonderful 3-track sequence fully connected, the tissue attaching “Ñuble”, “Nomade”, and “Caterpilar” is the only sign of structure in the album. Particularly in the heart-trenching “Nomade”, the standing mystical piece in the album that gets everything right; the gripping bells, the division of the beats and the alerting waves. The grasping density in “Las Placas” sums up the albums quest to a random freedom, gathering all the elements and fabrics and giving fortune a chance.
In “Caterpillar”, the bundle of sonic leisure adds folk into the mix, like only the Chileans can do it (+ Sufjan Stevens of course). Many of the album’s pieces suffer from an excess of clothing, victims of the industrial noise phenomenon (“La turbulencia quiere hacernos levanter hoy” shows sometimes it does work). It's flawed because it's over-stuffed. Film experimentalism has found a stable audience, music experimentalism hasn’t. My advice is, when approaching Telar Deslizante, see it as a Lars Von Trier film; appreciate the slightest movement, the silence moments and every incoherent second. But be warned, this might be your first experience with digital drugs.
Singing to gratitude is rare in secular music, and when it happens it usually comes in the form of subsistence and in very traditional fashion (such as Joan Sebastian’s “Gracias Por Tanto Amor” or Mercedes Sosa’s “Gracias a la Vida”). Chilean singer-songwriter, rapper, and pop enthusiast Dadalú takes on such duty, reuniting her skills and sharp style to put on a modern (and very personal) template of appreciation. “Gracias” is the first single out of Dadalú’s forthcoming debut album Período, which fans have been waiting for a couple of years. The song also offered us with our Fonogramaticos Vol.9 theme “El Silencio No Nos Matara.”
Like Valentina Fel and Pipe Llorens, Dadalu’s unmeasured rhymes come in at various speeds. “Gracias” has a nice jazzy, of-the-minute clamor that makes it epic. The emerging keys and rotating orchestration outline a revealing, glossy, and soulful piece. Dadalú just released “Gracias” as a single, officially. It features a set of remixes by Gen, Namuel, Miss Bolvia, Sokio, and Warjol, plus an instrumental version and its acapella counterpart of course (for free download through Michita Rex. The video is really pink (not bloody red as the album title suggests), shot on 16mm by Francisco Shultz.
Mind-blowing imperialistic new video for De Janeiros’ “Sambódromo”, the third promotional cut out of their debut album Plateado. The Chilean electronic duo comprised by Milton Mahan and Pablo Muñoz make an imaginative, highly-textured industrial sound, one that can be alienating but revealing if there’s an image along. The aesthetics of this video are rusty and gorgeously analog. This clip embalms the screen with outer space imagery and Rio de Janeiro’s extravagant carnival, taking advantage of its costumes, feathers and breasts to make a sci-fi monumental video. Plateado is out now as a free download on Michita Rex.
I didn’t really get all The xx buzz last year, but Gorilla vs. Bear’s Chris Cantalini was right when saying, “if you think you don’t like the xx, listen again.” Now I’m finding myself incredibly attached to virtually every song in that record, and if you should know, no, it’s not because Shakira loves them too. When I heard there was a mashup around combining their song “Intro” with Fakuta's "Virreinatos" by Pablo Muñoz (half of De Janeiros) I must say I was thrilled, and in fact, the outcome is pretty awesome. Fakuta’s forthcoming release is quickly becoming one of our most anticipated debut albums. You can also catch a TV interview/performance featuring the sublime “Armar y Desarmar” here, includes a cameo by Gepe.
The always reliable Super45 has the scoop on the new video hailing from Chile's awesome Michita Rex collective. “Música y Discos” is a subliminal song by Nueva Orleans, the closing piece in Michita Rex Vol.1, the netlabel's first release. Nueva Orleáns is one of the several projects of Milton Mahan, half of the "immediate good times techno" duo De Janeiros. The song features vocal collaboration from Fakuta, who we have yet to 'introduce' officially but if you've downloaded Fonogramaticos Vol.7, you would agree "Armar y Desarmar" is one of the volume's peaks. But back to the video, let's say it is as disturbing as it is worthy to watch. And the song? Simply stunning.
