Irrealidades
Mexican producer Bryan Dálvez follows high pressure avant dancefloor releases for NAAFI and Subreal with this void-prodding longform set of genre-melted cybernetic tribal-dembow hybrids. One for anyone into Siete Catorce, Lechuga Zafiro, or the SVBKVLT label.
Dálvez might not have the profile of some of his MX club contemporaries, but he's quietly been churning out some of the most urgent and technically baffling far-future dance music we've heard from the region. 'Irrealidades' is his most complete collection yet, not just a ramshackle selection of tracks but a heaving, multi-layered fantasy that's embedded with humor, craft and code. Dancefloor music often loses a proportion of its momentum when sculpted into album format, but Dálvez smartly avoids this, constructing his narrative like a DJ and using timing, psychedelic atmospherics and careful builds to bolster any movement rather than detract from it.
He wastes no time on 'Organillero', setting the mood with billowing choral pads, gossamer synths and faint, rousing shakers. His introduction of more Latin-coded instrumentation is cautious, first with a molasses-slow boat carnival lead, and then with the track's pounding central rhythm, pushing into ear-crippling distortion like a snowplow moving a glacier. The momentum is carried into 'Tribulación', that retains the soft, tribal-inspired kick pattern and cuts it with mind-altering, dissociated vocals and industrial scrapes. At some point, the track sounds as if it's being pulled between two worlds, a chrome-plated, crystal-cased superstructure, and an almost forgotten past, as the beats flux between hollow woodiness and robotic electricity.
Dálvez fires our minds towards East Coast club sounds on 'Retiembla', interrupting urgent kicks with strangled wails before dipping elegantly into unstable, pressurized rhythms, while 'Represión' centers a waspish off-kilter neo-hoover sound, driving it into head-mangling oscillator burps and a tom-heavy beat that wouldn't sound out of place on Abadir's ace "Mutate". He fuses lightning-blasted gabber and Amor Satyr-ish speed dembow on 'Quetzalcóatl', before taking a brief breather on the mystickal 'Un Respiro', that reminds us more of Michiru Ōshima and Pentagon's iconic "ICO" soundtrack. But the album comes to a head with the brilliant 'Karma', a breakneck fast-slow banger that's led by fluctuating folk strings that unite the Latina belt from Mexico through the Balkans to China.
One of the most vigorous dancefloor weapons we've heard this year, it's a fitting conclusion to an album that does its very best to spotlight the multi-faceted potential of one of the world's most nourishing experimental club wellsprings. Huge recommendation.
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Mexican producer Bryan Dálvez follows high pressure avant dancefloor releases for NAAFI and Subreal with this void-prodding longform set of genre-melted cybernetic tribal-dembow hybrids. One for anyone into Siete Catorce, Lechuga Zafiro, or the SVBKVLT label.
Dálvez might not have the profile of some of his MX club contemporaries, but he's quietly been churning out some of the most urgent and technically baffling far-future dance music we've heard from the region. 'Irrealidades' is his most complete collection yet, not just a ramshackle selection of tracks but a heaving, multi-layered fantasy that's embedded with humor, craft and code. Dancefloor music often loses a proportion of its momentum when sculpted into album format, but Dálvez smartly avoids this, constructing his narrative like a DJ and using timing, psychedelic atmospherics and careful builds to bolster any movement rather than detract from it.
He wastes no time on 'Organillero', setting the mood with billowing choral pads, gossamer synths and faint, rousing shakers. His introduction of more Latin-coded instrumentation is cautious, first with a molasses-slow boat carnival lead, and then with the track's pounding central rhythm, pushing into ear-crippling distortion like a snowplow moving a glacier. The momentum is carried into 'Tribulación', that retains the soft, tribal-inspired kick pattern and cuts it with mind-altering, dissociated vocals and industrial scrapes. At some point, the track sounds as if it's being pulled between two worlds, a chrome-plated, crystal-cased superstructure, and an almost forgotten past, as the beats flux between hollow woodiness and robotic electricity.
Dálvez fires our minds towards East Coast club sounds on 'Retiembla', interrupting urgent kicks with strangled wails before dipping elegantly into unstable, pressurized rhythms, while 'Represión' centers a waspish off-kilter neo-hoover sound, driving it into head-mangling oscillator burps and a tom-heavy beat that wouldn't sound out of place on Abadir's ace "Mutate". He fuses lightning-blasted gabber and Amor Satyr-ish speed dembow on 'Quetzalcóatl', before taking a brief breather on the mystickal 'Un Respiro', that reminds us more of Michiru Ōshima and Pentagon's iconic "ICO" soundtrack. But the album comes to a head with the brilliant 'Karma', a breakneck fast-slow banger that's led by fluctuating folk strings that unite the Latina belt from Mexico through the Balkans to China.
One of the most vigorous dancefloor weapons we've heard this year, it's a fitting conclusion to an album that does its very best to spotlight the multi-faceted potential of one of the world's most nourishing experimental club wellsprings. Huge recommendation.
Mexican producer Bryan Dálvez follows high pressure avant dancefloor releases for NAAFI and Subreal with this void-prodding longform set of genre-melted cybernetic tribal-dembow hybrids. One for anyone into Siete Catorce, Lechuga Zafiro, or the SVBKVLT label.
Dálvez might not have the profile of some of his MX club contemporaries, but he's quietly been churning out some of the most urgent and technically baffling far-future dance music we've heard from the region. 'Irrealidades' is his most complete collection yet, not just a ramshackle selection of tracks but a heaving, multi-layered fantasy that's embedded with humor, craft and code. Dancefloor music often loses a proportion of its momentum when sculpted into album format, but Dálvez smartly avoids this, constructing his narrative like a DJ and using timing, psychedelic atmospherics and careful builds to bolster any movement rather than detract from it.
He wastes no time on 'Organillero', setting the mood with billowing choral pads, gossamer synths and faint, rousing shakers. His introduction of more Latin-coded instrumentation is cautious, first with a molasses-slow boat carnival lead, and then with the track's pounding central rhythm, pushing into ear-crippling distortion like a snowplow moving a glacier. The momentum is carried into 'Tribulación', that retains the soft, tribal-inspired kick pattern and cuts it with mind-altering, dissociated vocals and industrial scrapes. At some point, the track sounds as if it's being pulled between two worlds, a chrome-plated, crystal-cased superstructure, and an almost forgotten past, as the beats flux between hollow woodiness and robotic electricity.
Dálvez fires our minds towards East Coast club sounds on 'Retiembla', interrupting urgent kicks with strangled wails before dipping elegantly into unstable, pressurized rhythms, while 'Represión' centers a waspish off-kilter neo-hoover sound, driving it into head-mangling oscillator burps and a tom-heavy beat that wouldn't sound out of place on Abadir's ace "Mutate". He fuses lightning-blasted gabber and Amor Satyr-ish speed dembow on 'Quetzalcóatl', before taking a brief breather on the mystickal 'Un Respiro', that reminds us more of Michiru Ōshima and Pentagon's iconic "ICO" soundtrack. But the album comes to a head with the brilliant 'Karma', a breakneck fast-slow banger that's led by fluctuating folk strings that unite the Latina belt from Mexico through the Balkans to China.
One of the most vigorous dancefloor weapons we've heard this year, it's a fitting conclusion to an album that does its very best to spotlight the multi-faceted potential of one of the world's most nourishing experimental club wellsprings. Huge recommendation.
Mexican producer Bryan Dálvez follows high pressure avant dancefloor releases for NAAFI and Subreal with this void-prodding longform set of genre-melted cybernetic tribal-dembow hybrids. One for anyone into Siete Catorce, Lechuga Zafiro, or the SVBKVLT label.
Dálvez might not have the profile of some of his MX club contemporaries, but he's quietly been churning out some of the most urgent and technically baffling far-future dance music we've heard from the region. 'Irrealidades' is his most complete collection yet, not just a ramshackle selection of tracks but a heaving, multi-layered fantasy that's embedded with humor, craft and code. Dancefloor music often loses a proportion of its momentum when sculpted into album format, but Dálvez smartly avoids this, constructing his narrative like a DJ and using timing, psychedelic atmospherics and careful builds to bolster any movement rather than detract from it.
He wastes no time on 'Organillero', setting the mood with billowing choral pads, gossamer synths and faint, rousing shakers. His introduction of more Latin-coded instrumentation is cautious, first with a molasses-slow boat carnival lead, and then with the track's pounding central rhythm, pushing into ear-crippling distortion like a snowplow moving a glacier. The momentum is carried into 'Tribulación', that retains the soft, tribal-inspired kick pattern and cuts it with mind-altering, dissociated vocals and industrial scrapes. At some point, the track sounds as if it's being pulled between two worlds, a chrome-plated, crystal-cased superstructure, and an almost forgotten past, as the beats flux between hollow woodiness and robotic electricity.
Dálvez fires our minds towards East Coast club sounds on 'Retiembla', interrupting urgent kicks with strangled wails before dipping elegantly into unstable, pressurized rhythms, while 'Represión' centers a waspish off-kilter neo-hoover sound, driving it into head-mangling oscillator burps and a tom-heavy beat that wouldn't sound out of place on Abadir's ace "Mutate". He fuses lightning-blasted gabber and Amor Satyr-ish speed dembow on 'Quetzalcóatl', before taking a brief breather on the mystickal 'Un Respiro', that reminds us more of Michiru Ōshima and Pentagon's iconic "ICO" soundtrack. But the album comes to a head with the brilliant 'Karma', a breakneck fast-slow banger that's led by fluctuating folk strings that unite the Latina belt from Mexico through the Balkans to China.
One of the most vigorous dancefloor weapons we've heard this year, it's a fitting conclusion to an album that does its very best to spotlight the multi-faceted potential of one of the world's most nourishing experimental club wellsprings. Huge recommendation.