Her FOURTH album! ‘Son’ is the ex-Argentine sitcom comedienne’s FOURTH album and you still haven’t put your hand in your bloody pocket and forked out to see what this hypnotic, experimental, melancholy little sourpuss is all about. Like ‘Astrud Gilbert on magic mushrooms’ I said the last time – and I’m happy to reiterate that same throwaway, slapstick observation now only with this postscript: she’s completely bonkers with it.
If you enjoyed the murmuring loops, buzzes and sultry downtempo polyrhythms of ‘Tres Cosa’ then you’ll enjoy this. Equally dissonant, equally disorientating, ‘Son’ perfects the vocal beat-boxing technique enjoyed by it’s predecessor, only this time there’s more loops, more layers, more ripples and more spirals. It’s a mood and magic thing, like Jorge Luis Borges or Gabriel García Márquez set to light propulsive rhythms, fantastical strings, oblique, extraneous sound-effects, crystal singing, and all manner of enchanting juxtapositions. Like being caught in a slipstream of astral planes in a parallel universe of your own unmaking, grasping and eluding patterns of meaning in a light drizzle of ambiguity. Salvador Dali – but with more chocolate. More raisins. More reckless prose..
It’s alright. But when you haven’t got a clue what they’re talking about, your options of remark are naturally limited.