Chronicle #1: April-May 2020
In the first edition of this sprawling saga, we get leftovers, B-sides, letdowns and surprises. Just like life!
Bad Bunny - Las que no iban a salir
What a gift! YHLQMDLG was already one of the best and most iconic albums of the year, so having 10 new songs both made for the album and recorded afterwards, that’s more than appreciated. Bad Bunny is one of the most refreshing and endearing figures this year, he’s got such a pleasant and empathetic attitude in the face of the tragedy the world is being submitted to, so even if this album may not come as a surprise, it’s a wonderful thing to get. He gets to evoke this fantasy and fame, but without rubbing his success in the listener’s face -- he seems to want to share his luck and assertion of what he has with everyone, and with such a joyous and open voice, he has the intentions of throwing a party for everyone who wants in.
Since this is a collection of songs and not a full, cohesive project, it wouldn’t be fair to try to find a “whole” composed of the summation of all the songs on here. What’s much more appropriate is to try to find the different kinds of tracks, especially when the second half is full of basically loose extras. On one hand, you get the songs made during -- and about -- quarantine, like “BENDICIONES” and “EN CASITA”, the former a decent song where Benito blesses even the ones who curse him and thanks those who try to keep the population safe, and the latter a cute ditty where he’s joined by his girlfriend Gabriela, half complaining about little lockdown-caused inconveniences, half love song promising to meet someone once all of this is over. Inconsequential tracks, same thing with a throwaway freestyle of Myke Towers’ “Rosca”, and a remix of “Como Se Siente” by Jhay Cortez, even though it has a nice chorus and sunny production courtesy of master Tainy.
Which leaves us with the first half of the album, which seems to consists of tracks that couldn’t make it into YHLQMDLG, and if this is what was cut off, that’s just an indication of the row Bad Bunny’s on right now. Yeah, the way the albums opens with “SI ELLA SALE” isn’t stella, but afterwards there’s a lot to explore. For one, even if Benito’s in a committed relationship at the moment, he still knows how to access the heart wrenching pain that comes with losing someone you love. “BYE ME FUI” wraps him up in this glassy production, where he seems to go through a maze of mirrors, with his head held down. “Even though I’m dying to, we can’t see each other/One day we do, one day we don’t/That’s not what having each other is” and he sings it with this heaviness in his voice, so strong he can’t even sing the chorus for a second time. And “CANCIÓN CON YANDEL” is even better, one of his most emotionally complex songs ever. Yandel’s performance is incredibly hurt, where he acts out his more superficial desires, giving way for Benito to try to make nice with his relationship and its conflictive nature, validating all its complex layers, as if he were talking to himself on top of a building in the middle of the night. A stellar moment.}
But as always, Bad Bunny is also a party; a huge party. His collaboration with Zion & Lennox, “MÁS QUE UNA CITA”, is the midpoint between his emotional side and his party side, where -- again -- master Tainy plays off more than a third of the song with no drums whatsoever, leaving the joy that’s bursting out of the track hang in midair, so that when it hits the ground once again, it’s more appreciated. As always, Benito takes his time to honor the pioneers of the genre. That’s why we get a track like “BAD CON NICKY”, where he joins with Nicky Jam for a tune that seems conventional at first, with Nicky’s usual crooning accompanied by a laid back Bad Bunny… until early 2000s Nicky Jam is brought back to life por a good old school perreo that harkens back to those DJ Playero mixes; it’s impactful how much today’s scene owes to the old. And so, reasonably, he invites legend Don Omar for “PA’ ROMPERLA”, which is chaos! Distorted trumpets like nuclear wasps with percussion that slowly gets dirtier and more stomping, so many green tones that burn like little out there does. And both performers get around like spiders in this production, Don Omar being the anxious hyperfixated chaos-loving man, and Benito the player who’ll adapt to any situation, this time taking on a huskier, smokier tone, with which he swallows the damaged instrumental.
A lot words (maybe too many?) for an album that most likely was put out to gain back some monetary losses after his tour got cancelled. But when there’s so much good material just thrown out there like it was nothing, it’s incredible. We’re watching various masters of their craft doing extraordinary things, and that’s always worth celebrating. Bad Bunny put out 30 tracks in 3 mess, and it seems like so much less. The gift that keeps on giving.
Hayley Williams - Petals for Armor
Really, what a shame that this didn’t turn out the way it wanted to. It’s understandable that after 15 years of leading one of the best pop-punk-gone-new-wave bands out there, Hayley Williams would want to work on her secondary talents as a songwriter. Going from fun, loose pop rock to something more “sophisticated” and “refined”; if you will, a more serious project, that focuses on tones and textures and dares go different places. The ambition is definitely there, but despite the fact that this is a passion project that’s clearly not aiming for commercial success, it’s shocking how passionless Petals for Armor is. This is anemic music; powerless, lifeless, bloodless. Hayley’s ensemble is well put together, but everyone plays and performs with an alarming lack of emotion or feeling. All the notes and chords and arrangements are well placed, but that’s where they stay. The songs are all one-dimensional, they’re not trying to either approach the listener or encourage the listener to approach them. How are they expecting you to react? I’ve no idea. Do they want you to dance? Cry? Laugh? (Certainly not laugh, the trademark Paramore humor is long gone here.) I’m pretty sure they’re not expecting to respond with cold indifference, but that’s what they’re offering you.
It’s hardly even worth talking about specific songs since all of them end up sticking to one another like goo. The lead single “Simmer” at least has a catchy chorus, kinda, but it’s not well-sung. “Dead Horse” is alright, possibly the one song that’s somewhat rescuing -- though it would be mid-tier Paramore at best. Supergroup Boygenius gives a mystique to “Roses/Lotus/Violet/Iris”, a song that otherwise is empty. But after that… there’s seriously nothing. This album dabbles on house music, funk, 80s freestyle, and it reaches no sonic or thematic conclusion on anything that it’s doing. It doesn’t enjoy itself, it doesn’t wallow in sadness, it doesn’t get angry; nothing. I’d say it’s surprising that this album was made by humans and not by machines, but I’m positive that a machine would make more vibrant music than this. Pop for people who are afraid of black music.
Lorenzo Senni - Scacco matto
The first 15 seconds of Scacco matto are hysteria. The sharp keys of “Discipline of Enthusiasm” colored by electronic bits above and underneath the edges that barely get to build get interrupted by a total shutdown that sounds like a slight smile from which a murderous tongue comes out. Cut, back to where we started. That’s what I call bursting the door wide open. And the fact that Lorenzo Senni is able to sustain and expand upon that dynamic for 4 minutes is even more surprising. One of the modern leaders of the movement called “progressive trance” is back with a brand new arsenal of stimulating and refreshing tones. Senni knows how to mold sonic figures that open up and show how their exterior was only a cocoon from which even more abrasive and fierce figures come out. On this album, we got the oval-shaped chords of “Move in Silence (Only Speak When It's Time to Say Checkmate)” which slowly sharpen up; or the plush textures of “The Power of Failing” which serve as the perfect soundtrack to a party underneath the sheets; or the wavy funk of “Wasting Time Writing Lorenzo Senni Songs” (the song titles here are nuts) which gives way to a stalking groove with metallic tints that occasionally are located within a dancefloor. This is dangerous music.
But the things this man can do! He has the ability to create small -- or big -- worlds out of a few elements that grow bigger and larger while others stick with a non-changing amount of sonic density. A song like “THINK BIG”, with the most accessible melody of the entire album, makes use of the rest of the instrumental sticking to that melody, only for said instrumental to slowly cut itself off to assemble borderline impressionistic portraits of the rush of the city, and the difficulty to find moments of warmth in such a cold environment. “Canone infinito” embarks upon that quest, in which the musical scope of the track expands towards the sky, and a curious and melancholic keyboard connects the dots of the stars to create mini constellations. And if “Canone infinito” is the night, “Dance Tonight Revolution Tomorrow” is the beautiful, orange sunset, with a little yet touching melody, which unravels itself only to stitch itself back again, and just stops to look towards the horizon, getting lost in its splendor, while the rest of life goes by. And the song stays still, until little by little it quietly goes out, and only its bare essence remains.
And all of it with no percussion! What a marvel.
Ashley McBryde - Never Will
A record as straightforward as this deserves an equally straightforward review: one of the most potent, resonant, likable, and melodically strong albums of the year. For those who aren’t country fans, don’t worry - Never Will by Ashley McBryde doesn’t ask that you to be a connoisseur of the genre or even a fan of it; it just asks you to sit down and listen, and let the music do the rest.
As a songwriter, Ashley McBryde goes straight to the point, not only with her lyrics but her melodies as well. She’s got a raspy but gentle voice, with enough power to be able to project a wide range of emotions. She can comprehend the insipid and pitiful nature of her relationships on “One Night Standards” and “First Thing I Reach For”, and she may feel she isn’t soaring the way she wants to on “Sparrow”, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to get back on her feet and take notice of her power of resilience like on “Hang in There Girl” and the title track. Ashley can present herself as a woman with a lust for life, no matter how much it costs her.
Interestingly though, many of the best moments on the album are the ones where she plays pretend and acts like someone else. “Martha Divine” roars in her vengeance towards her father’s lover (“Momma's an angel/My daddy… isn't/Looks like a little more of him rubbed off on me than didn't”) to the point of literally burying her alive in one of the most humorous moments in an album with no shortage of humor. “Voodoo Doll” is opulence surrendering to its worst instincts by giving into the suspicions of her man cheating which creates a thundering groove, akin to the center of a hurricane. And on the other side of the coin, a song like “Shut Up Sheila” — the best song on the album — isn’t written by her, but she uses that different approach to the material to demonstrate family conflict when facing grief, and it generates an uncomfortable, lonesome atmosphere. And speaking of grief, “Stone” is by far the heaviest track lyrically speaking, in which she must deal with the tragic death of her brother, and fears that she’ll end up just like him, as if it was meant to be. But again, Ashley finds herself a lot of time to meditate and think about her shortcomings and fears, but not the point where she becomes complacent or self-pitying; she’s always got her eye on what she’s got and what she wants to preserve, and that attitude is impeccable.
It’s also worth mentioning that the sound of the album is splendid; the guitars have plenty of color, the touches of organ and synths are welcome and the drumming section is surprisingly varied. It may not be an album full of surprises — and the moments that are most out of place, “Velvet Red” and “Styrofoam”, are by far the worst — but its meat-and-potatoes quality makes it an album worth coming back to; it’s simple, pleasant and incredibly well-realized. For country lovers, it’s another delight in a year chock full of excellent country music; and for those who aren’t, they might just find something they’ll wanna hold onto.