Boomkat Product Review:
Uruguayan club alchemist Lila Tirando a Violeta joins forces with Berlin avant pop producer Sin Maldita on 'Accela', a carnivalesque roar of crunchy, uneven rhythms and dreamworld vocals that draws its inspiration from 'Serial Experiments Lain' and James Joyce's 'Finnegan's Wake'.
If you've been studying club music's experimental fringes you'll no doubt have come across Lila Tirando a Violeta already. Her last two albums, released on Mexico City's NAAFI imprint, built on an extensive catalog of freewheeling, noisy dancefloor hybrids, summarising her over-arching gaze with lithe, sharply mutating deconstructions that writhed like angry spirits trapped in a bottle. On 'Accela' she relocates to Hyperdub, assisted by Sin Maldita, whose 2020 debut album 'You're Trouble' lashed robotic vocals to footwork and trance-inspired industrial backdrops. The two make a compelling double act, their individual styles coherently melted into a hyperactive quiver of helium melodies and fractalized beats.
Intrigued by the language of dreams and how that intersects with digital realities, Lila and Sin use influential '90s cyberpunk anime 'Serial Experiments Lain' as a sample source and thematic guide. The show examined how communication networks might evolve if it was possible to upload human consciousness into a virtual space, and the duo construct a fitting soundtrack to a contemporary reality where that's almost possible. 'Finnigan's Wake' comes into play with the concept of 'Idioglossia', a private language shared between small groups. Sin and Lila figured out their own way of communicating while they worked on 'Accela', and their voices are omnipresent throughout, humming, gasping and chattering around the rugged clusters of beats and synths.
A rubbery, pitched-up wail couches our entry to 'Viconian Cycles' surrounded by cybernetic whirrs and dystopian scrapes. Twisting and turning, it sounds like a dreamtime pop earworm, disrupted by plucked strings and glassy crunches. But the record's engine switches gear when we hit 'All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters', accompanying its dense network of spaceport crunches and system collapse SFX with rolling kicks and epic, cinematic synths. 'Sabor Inmovil' is even more chaotic, a purple-hued headmash of fictile, nonsensical raps, baroque stabs, warehouse bumps and error-core bleeps. Our fave moment is the title track, a hard-swung, witchy sci-fi lurcher that would corrupt even the most adventurous dancefloors. Like a Johnny Mnemonic-style datadump beamed straight into the brain, this one's a must for anyone into 33EMYBW, Amnesia Scanner or Wanton Witch.