Chronicle 2022: ROSALÍA's 'MOTOMAMI'
A more in-depth approach at a great (perhaps?), albeit complicated release.
ROSALÍA - MOTOMAMI
Agh. MOTOMAMI. MOTOMAMI, MOTOMAMI. I’m still figuring out what the hell to do with you. A mission album, a statement for and of pop music and latin music and latin pop music, a landmark point for an artist still eager to bloom, a revelation for many… that is, if you weren’t (and aren’t) listening.
ROSALÍA burned through the natural passage from entering the music world by exploring her roots (in her case, it was flamenco with the excellent Los ángeles from 2017) to, once it was established she was legit, moving on to more daring releases and concepts. As such, we got El Mal Querer in 2018, a labeled ‘experimental’ flamenco pop album based on an Occitanian novel. The world felt like it had changed. El Mal Querer was seen as a turning point in how Latin music was set to explore itself (ironically, brought upon by a Hispanian). Ambient-like sounds could suddenly get big, and autotune could be used as an effect to enhance a performance, acoustic instrumentation could be paired up with digital soundscapes - suddenly, everything was possible!
While I think El Mal Querer is a very good album with a bit too many songs serving as ‘passages’ rather than actual songs, what did actually make me completely root for ROSALÍA, besides the amount of great material she had already provided, was her run of singles in 2019. Once established as a major superstar in the making, she would not stop making left turns over and over, forcing audiences and the industry to play catch up all the time. She minimalized reggaeton with J Balvin on “CON ALTURA”, and proceeded to do it again, this time even more minute, with Ozuna on “Yo X Ti, Tu X Mi”. The flash of flamenco as modern lavish lifestyle (that she’ll explore further on here) was taken to a furious extreme on “Aute Cuture”. She sang in catalan in “Milionària” as a satire of capitalism’s excesses, and paired it up with an anti-capitalist ambient pop ballad called “Dio$ No$ Libre del Dinero”. And once the year was almost done, she took upon matching up flamenco with glitch pop and deconstructed club on the less-than-2-minute-long “A Palé”, a subtly visceral track. Each song was a turning point, and there was never an attempt to think of how to fit all these works in an album. She felt uncompromising in a way no mainstream artist was. The freedom of no strings attached.
But the main mistake both ROSALÍA and ROSALÍA fans (myself included) made during that time was thinking that it would take a long while for the rest of Latin music to catch up. That’s not what happened. In fact, just about the opposite happened! Many major artists took cues from her style (and lack thereof) as excuses to indulge in weird(er) ideas, the sound of Latin radio became smaller and more texture-based (a transition that was already occurring beyond ROSALÍA’s extent), the singing became more emotional, the sounds became raunchier and simultaneously more ethereal. In essence, the ‘revolution’ worked. ROSALÍA successfully set a new bar, and a new paradigm; it just wasn’t as high, or as impenetrable, as she thought it would be.
(All of this excluding the fact that, if we were to tag this as ‘neoperreo’, which is horrible genre boxing for ‘electronic-y reggaeton’, labels like N.A.A.F.I were and have been developing this sound for years now, what with Paul Marmota and so many others drowning out the sound of mainstream reggaeton to something more ominous, let alone more openly queer. But that’s the underground, and that’s not where ROSALÍA wants to be.)
So, now, if we finally start talking about MOTOMAMI, if you’re aware of what’s going on, a song like “CANDY” shouldn’t be that surprising in terms of sheer sonics. I’ll grant it the novelty of it being an ambient-infused reggaeton song, that’s lyrically based on falling in love while dancing to Plan B (respecting legends and also appropriate, since member Chencho Corleone is receiving a massive comeback), and melodically based on the constructions of Burial’s future garage classic “Archangel”. The combining is novel, if not the slightest bit pandering - “Plan B and Burial? Those aren’t meant to go together!” is the reaction they expect from music nerds. It is a great song since, like most of the album, it has a lot of hands on deck all being commanded by ROSALÍA, her singing is truly beautiful, and the ambiance is one of mild despair and savvy flashiness at the same time. But place it in between the new Sech and Karol G singles, and you would not get whiplash whatsoever if you were a casual listener.
Most of MOTOMAMI consists of reveling in not being tied to any specific sound; loving the alien, if you will. It’s very much not coherent, and it doesn’t try to be either, which I’ll grant is for its own good. But at the same time, it has this nasty attitude to it I don’t care for; too much talk about being able to transform herself as an artist, a lot of talking, which doesn’t lead to that much walking. When she does switch genres entirely from one song to the next, when the transitions happen, they’re noticeable, but not exactly jarring. She announces too much, and then keeps repeating the same statements of self-declaration and of how “different” she is, to the point where it’s less flexing, and more fronting. Hard reggaeton on “CHICKEN TERIYAKI” followed by a spare piano ballad on “HENTAI”, followed by a glitchy ‘neoperreo’ (ugh) on “BIZCOCHITO”? Yeah, that’s a tad more extreme than others, but the sounds just aren’t that cutting.
A lot of critics searching for direction compared this to Kanye’s Yeezus, and one of the main reasons that comparison flunked was because Yeezus, even amidst all the lunacy, had a stable sound. A more accurate (yet also limited and wrongful) comparison would be The Life of Pablo, but that was an actual disconcerting album where the next move was almost always unpredictable. ROSALÍA had that edge once, in 2019, but that’s the pain in the ass about an album: one way or another, it will constrict you.
Good news is (and there are good news), even if the sounds don’t have that unpredictable feel to them, they’re still very good sounds, with a lot of meticulous planning that pays off in a way that MOTOMAMI still remains a great listen, front to back. Tinkering, aired out keys on swinging percussion on “BIZCOCHITO”, even if most of the main refrains are annoying. A return to ragged flamenco on “BULERÍAS”, that works upon the muted percussion and chanting vocals, and there is some fun to be had this rusty air is used to brag about wearing Versace, and ROSALÍA’s runs are still that of a pro. Chipmunking her vocals on “DIABLO” for a sped-up frenzy of words, bouncing alongside tropical percussion and vocal samples, with the frequencies changing with each chorus. Even as I don’t think the attempt at bachata “LA FAMA” is a great song (the Weeknd really tampers with it, and it runs on too long), ROSALÍA’s moment of clarity in the pre-chorus is backed up by incredibly warm, sunset-worthy synths, and the whole song is fueled by distorted vocals serving as… guitar lines? Or synth lines? I don’t know. I don’t think I want to, either - they’re intriguing.
Even in moments that are meant to be ridiculous, I find myself laughing at them and deriding them when I’m listening to anything else, but being at least somewhat enraptured by them when I’m actually hearing them. “HENTAI” was a polarizing single. The lyrics are juvenile but sung so seriously; “Te quiero ride como mi bike” is a stupid, stupid sentence (so of course it’s the hook), sung in a dramatic way to evoke devotion (in other words, no sense of humor whatsoever); the piano tone is hollow and cheap; it’s a song so unnecessarily heavy, perfect to fit within Labrinth’s shithole of a score for the shithole of a show Euphoria. But when said stupid sentence is uttered in the second chorus, and there’s a little violin attached to it… I might just sing a completely different tune. It’s a moment that does lean further into the absurd and banal, and comes out of it with a shining moment of real playfulness, in order to express some urgency. Surprising subtlety in a song this blunt.
Other moments of ridiculousness that somehow work their way into my ears and come out smelling like roses are the Pharrell-aided interlude “MOTOMAMI”, a Pharrell piece through and through, but one where ROSALÍA’s breathy delivery of choppy refrains makes this a quirky tune, especially as the acid piano tones come out in its second half, and you get used to the percussion being used as bass. Similarly, sampling Soulja Boy for a muted, percussion-less chopped-and-screwed feel instead of outright execution to tack on at the end of an openly artificial remake of salsa artist Justo Betancourt’s “Delirio de Grandeza” is surprisingly touching; those pan flutes feel otherworldly; it’s an absurd moment. Even one of the most straightforward songs on here, “CHICKEN TERIYAKI”, is kind of a mystery; ROSALÍA flexes with such disdain, disinterest, even as the percussion keeps on going, it’s worth wondering, “Why?”. It’s probably a whim, but, if it catches you at the right time, it can soundtrack a great dirt-off-your-shoulders moment.
The moments of relative peace that aren’t “HENTAI” are much appreciated, since, while most of the big ballads on here are too long for their own good, they do establish ambiance very well, and Noah Goldstein’s presence does help ROSALÍA’s attempts at deepening the sound of her instrumentals. “G3 N15” is helped out by organs swaying in and out, checking out different frequencies along the way. “COMO UN G” has some truly delicate piano playing (by James Blake! Maybe the guy’s much better off behind the scenes), and said piano is placed in a dense sense of space, so nothing falls out of place as her voice gets more taken apart from humanity.
Perhaps most strikingly, album closer “SAKURA”, a live recording of a new song with spare keyboard accompaniment, while a cliché move, is turned upside down due to two factors. First, it’s a good song; understated at times, but obscure and menacing at others. Second, the sound construction is magnificent. ROSALÍA’s voice feels echo-y and distant, like an amateur live recording, to further emphasize a certain distance with her audience; and said audience is saturated to uncanny levels. The voices feel like tiny creatures surrounding, silently judging; their applauses aren’t encouraging, they’re an order. As the song ends, they rise in volume, taking over a voice as powerful as hers, turning into white noise… and then pure silence. The sound mixing is perverse, and it’s the most striking commentary on the overwhelming aspects of fame that this entire album has, and it’s absolutely wordless.
Naturally, though, the moments where ROSALÍA can sustain the pronounced uncanniness of her sounds throughout an entire song are the ones that truly stand among her best. She makes the industrial-like “LA COMBI VERSACE” and it’s a petrifying tune: the shapeless keys that resemble a cold engine, the organic flamenco handclaps that don’t fit at all, which makes them incredibly disquieting; her and Tokischa’s vocal layering turning into one solitary, warbly voice that doesn’t feel human, but not robotic or alien-esque either. There’s the percussive rage of “CUUUUuuuuuute” that earns its title. A forgotten voice counts up until 21, and then, with help from Argentinian producer Tayhana, a genius in her own niche, we get a rage; whistles, maracas, digital kicks, all colliding into each other while ROSALÍA’s voice finds her senses elsewhere - even if the dialing back to a spare, piano section feels awkward, the transition back is seamless. Vocal manipulation that turns into a plummeting section. Words said in a stream-of-consciousness way, and it feels like different sections of the night screaming into each other’s ear. It’s primitive fear turned into 1’s and 0’s.
But literally (literally) every reservation I had with MOTOMAMI felt like nonsensical fears the first time I heard “SAOKO”, and was told it was going to be the opener of this album. Plain and simple, this is her best song since El Mal Querer, one where each second feels like a different idea is popping up, and it integrates itself seamlessly into the rest. It’s the one time where ROSALÍA’s aims at total unpredictability succeed. I can’t count how many times I’ve heard this song, and I’m still surprised by it. The opening, where you hear the set-up for a big reggaeton drop, and when it shows up, it’s… low-res: compressed drums, a bass that shifts equalization with each uttering of the bass line, something’s not adding up. The drums leaving for the, uhh, ‘chorus’, where ROSALÍA’s voice is manipulated, her voice transforming as she claims her power of transformation and earns it. The former drum-bass pattern stabilizing itself, the sound opening up as she raps, “Frank me dice que abra el mundo como una nue’”. The line, “Sé quién soy a donde vaya, nunca se me olvida / Yo manejo, Dios me guía”; fuck yeah. The ganged up vocal samples accompanying the bass, lowered down a few semitones, then suddenly rising up to a screeching halt with the original melody. The jazz breakdown, with such an airtight snare. Her voice, not only clipping in the mix, but being clipped right as the phrases are ending. The line, “Fuck el estilo! / Fuck el estilo… / Fuck el stylist” (who are you?!). The cutting and pasting of elements from all sections of the song, boiled in such a small space, it feels like nothing else should be able to fit, yet more keeps coming in. It’s physically overwhelming, overstimulating; flashing strobe lights of red and black and blue. All in 2 minutes and change.
This is what was promised. In hindsight, it was only natural it couldn’t deliver to those heights. If I’m being more picky here than usual, it’s because I know not only what ROSALÍA can do, but what she wants to do: music as a grand gesture of power and dominance. With such a grand scope, it’s only fair to judge her accordingly. This is all still on her own terms. It’s sad that she thinks of ways to adapt to the canon, and not ways in which the canon should adapt to her (like what happened with her last album), but nonetheless. More than enough aces up her sleeve to think of this album as something truly great, and enough musical ideals to stick up to and root for. But something in me tells her she’d be happier alone, in her own lane. After all, it’s not her fault everyone jumped on her train. But this is the new normal now. MOTOMAMI is her next play against the world - “see how you react to this!”. That hunger is always appreciated and, flaws and all, I’m eager to hear the world’s response.