By José Gandue @spinning zone
More than just a couple of reviews, I'm determined to make this piece a necessary literary escape, as part of reflecting on the feelings I've experienced in recent years., trying to understand what my relationship with music is, how I conceive of it as my main medicine and the defense I make of my way of promoting sound art. Let's get started.
I, who am perhaps much older than the vast majority of visitors and friends of this page, I want to continue being, for a few seconds each day, the same person I was with his Walkman I was jumping around my family's furniture warehouse, while shaking my ears listening Godfodder, the album of my beloved Ned's Atomic Dustbin. I also want to remain the same person who, every time he hears Waltzing Matilda, in Tom Waits' version, She sheds a tear because she can't stop her chest from tightening while the song lasts. I want to be the same naive person who suspects that Press, Cerati's music is a divine revelation for someone like me, who stopped believing in gods a long time ago. And yes, music helped me get through the last few years, including the pandemic and my health problems., one day playing music at full volume in the Marly clinic Goldberg variations Bach, performed by Glenn Gould, to explain to a doctor that this piece had been composed so that a patron of the composer could sleep peacefully. And yes, it is music that now invites me to listen repeatedly throughout this afternoon to the two new albums that have given me confidence that everything to come can be even better: Broken, by Ela Minus, and The voices of the Jacaranda, from Rubio.
I, among so many other clichés I've uttered in my life, I think the best music is that which flirts with the edge of possibility and remains rebellious against the oppressive and conventional. Music should shake hearts, it should spit out sincerity, And at the same time, it must be an exciting sentimental delight, where something, at least a hint, a note, must invent (or reinvent) reality. Music is meant to send shivers down your spine, raise goosebumps, inspire kisses, make you die for a few seconds before you recover in the everyday. I like many artists, many bands, but only about ten, maybe a little more, of names evoke this kind of feeling in me. Rubio and Ela Minus, among them.
You already know my deep love for the work of Fran Straube, the same Rubio. She, If we get technical and exaggerated (excuse this indulgence), it restructured in me the concept of electronic music as a vehicle for travel, for a mental journey. Their melodies, besides being an exquisite and detailed elaboration of textures upon textures of sound, invite dancing and, at the same time, introspection, growth, to doubt as the foundation of intellectual health. She has grown up in recent years. His art has become increasingly demanding, but at the same time, freer, more interesting. Fran is quite prolific, having published many titles in recent months, but the quality of her work does not decline; rather, it opens new and resonant doors., and invites the listener to detect his brand-new acts of magic, his new discoveries. His voice takes on an increasingly distinctive mix of effects and tones, without ever losing the connection to transmit the message. In The Voices…, a route of just two cuts is established. Yugen, The opening track is a sustained displacement driven by heavy distortion, coupled with rhythms similar to those exhibited by the drum&bass from the nineties, and high reverberation vocal exercises with limit points in the high frequencies. Shouganai, The second part is a kind of trip hop somewhat accelerated, which brings with it a need to breathe more quickly, where what is expressed vocally creates curtains that gradually dominate the scene, and where moving atmospheres are created, with subtle delays that manages to create anguish, uncertainty, perplexity. I insist, it is in the doubt, and even more so with Rubio, where the pleasure lies.
Ela Minus is preparing a new album and has released a couple of advance recordings, under the name of Broken. I can already tell you something: the song that gives this material its title is in the top 3 of my favorite tunes of 2024. It reaches my ears in time. It is a most precious confession of spiritual breakdown in the midst of euphoria. It's incredible how in just over four minutes, the joy of dance, the confession of personal unease, and the crisis of idealism that anyone can experience these days can all come together. It's the same shock I felt when I heard God is a DJ by Faithless. It's a series of mental clicks that smash us against the wall and, at the same time, bring out our best smiles. I don't mind sounding exaggerated, but this is a life-saving song, with its own light, that I wish millions could listen to in the privacy of their own homes., to then go out into the street and breathe better air. And then comes Combat, a rest, a meditation, a blanket of rest. A galaxy of sonic textures gradually takes over the atmosphere, while the voices, enveloped in effects of flash and spatial expansion, envelop us. And perhaps tell us that there might be hope. At least that's what I want to imagine.
Anyway. Listening to these two new albums confirms something I've been saying for a while now: It is women and sexual dissidents who are responsible for changing our vision of music; the renewal has been happening for several years now from that side. It is in their courage, in the way they ask where we are going, in the tentative nature of their compositions, and in everything they have to say—everything that was previously silenced—where the charm and the future of what we hear lie. Of course, there's a bit of everything., But examples like Rubio and Ela Minus are the ones that are coming and carry with them a source of inspiration for what we will experience. I want to believe that what we will hear in the coming times will contain the best music for future generations., because they will be moments of disobedience and beautiful risk.
