They were making pop music, and Rosalía was very much a pop star. It was as heady as you wanted it to be - check that Arthur Russell sample on “MALDICIÓN – Cap.10: Cordura” - but Rosalía and her co-producer El Guincho were not just crafting canny genre exercises to be dissected by cultural anthropologists.
It’s just that good.Īs Julianne Escobedo Shepherd explained in her insightful review, Rosalía’s album was an extension of the global bass scene that emerged a decade ago, in which producers began updating their countries’ traditional folk music for the modern dance floor. Even if imitators somehow manage to turn the album’s singular style into trend fodder and its tics are subsumed into the mainstream until they no longer stand out, El Mal Querer itself will remain of those records capable of upending someone’s entire musical universe. The songs are not just forward-thinking but timelessly great. If anything, its charms have only been amplified through repeat exposure. Now that the shock of discovery has worn off, the album has lost none of its luster.
Swooning vocal theatrics straight out of ancient Andalusia morphed into lithe, breathy Auto-Tune runs.Įl Mal Querer was fresh, and more importantly, it has endured. A melody from Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me A River” became the foundation for an operatic ballad that seemed to never stop ascending. Palmas that hit like accented letters, agile nylon-stringed guitar runs, and a grandly weeping string section merged seamlessly with airy synth pads and booming minimal beats. The Catalonian singer Rosalía’s second album was truly unique, alchemizing traditional flamenco with futuristic R&B in a manner that felt both natural and visionary. At this late date it’s rare to encounter music that truly sounds like nothing else, but El Mal Querer pulled it off last year.
0 kommentar(er)
