Matias Aguayo - El Rudo del House

Matias Aguayo, our favorite Chilean-born/European-based artist outside of Alexis Sanchez, returns from years of hibernation with the rousing “El Rudo del House.” It’s a welcome return to form for Aguayo and his Comemé label, which hasn’t had a massive run since Rebolledo's outstanding debut LP back in 2011. "El Rudo del House” is a frenetic and loose number that isn’t too far removed from The Visitor, Aguayo’s underrated 2013 album. However, the lack of vocals indicates that Aguayo is moving away from the pop songwriting of his last two LPs. Whatever happens, this latest single is proof that Aguayo still knows how to turn up a dance floor. That’s why he’s the label boss…

Lola Pistola - "Tu Pensabas"

After catching two raging AJ Dávila y Terror Amor shows as part of the Burger Records’ Caravan of the Stars tour last October, all I could think of for weeks was how fascinating it was to watch Lola Pistola sing while agilely playing tambourine (and especially after she swiftly beat back some drunk college kids lurking under her Qipao dress). There was just something unnerving and compelling about that Boricua Brooklynite with the 1960s’ bank robber moniker’s aura. 

“Tú Pensabas,” a lo-fi chaos of what I feel is what you get that emerged while recording Terror Amor, makes the journey through heartache weirdly enjoyable. Lola Pistola sounds ferociously confident, and AJ Dávila’s raw production (his signature echoing textures) gives the track a ruthless edge. Breakups are the worst. Yet, pain and desperation (and a rambling jam) has once again given rise to an honest and freakishly catchy number.

Video: Los Blenders - "Amigos"

After seeing them mix porn and surf, acid freak outs and boat rides, Los Blenders re-team with director Joey Muñoz for a more low-key and lo-fi clip in "Amigos." There's not much in the way of a treatment, daytime TV plus a trip to the beach make for some quality guy time, but it's a fitting look for a track that celebrates friendship (and/or cocaine). "Amigos" not only delivers Los Blenders' trademark scuzzy garage pop, but there's the added bonus from lyrics that give meaning to the phrase A poca barba, poca vergüenza pocos fucks given ("¿Cuántas llevo? No sé pero, bueno, dame otra"). That should be more than enough to hold us over until next month, when their long-awaited debut Chavos Bien is released via Barcelona label Tigre Discs.

Juan Wauters - Asi No Mas - Daytrotter Session

Juan Wauters is one of those few melodists who can combine simplicity, sensitivity and subtlety in each of his compositions. Yet this tinkerer of irresistible songs impresses with the richness of his texts that can both make you chuckle and choke up. On “Asi No Mas” Wauters exposes, in an uninhibited exploration of a popular expression and its phonetic and graphic ambiguity (¿así nomás o así no más?), his thoughts on life changes, inevitable moments of loneliness, and his desire to "poder estar bien sin qué pelear." The track, released earlier this year, is an charmingly catchy cut from a Daytrotter Session he recorded last November at Futureappletree (Rock Island, IL). Juan Wauters will be playing this song and many others at Festival Nrmal 2015.

Arca - "Sheep"

Sheep begins with a looped dial tone coming from another parallel dimension. A barnyard cacophony of well, sheep, urban grunts and uhhs, then kicks into (fascinating) short circuiting overdrive—horns, a train? A woman moaning, throbbing and we're back where the S&M runway of Xen left off. A bathhouse, club thumps, dark elevators, a dial tone that can’t be reached. An Eastern flute calls inwards, a digital ping, a digital pong—walls transforming, we're back on the elevator. A woman sings in a language nearly obliterated by conquest, this mélange hints at Chancha Via Circuito, if Chancha were purging his electronic demons on ayahuasca. Maddening anxiety, phosphorescent, the clacking percussion of what sounds like an automatic handgun, the trumpet of a beast signals this transition, sloshing elephants thru an oasis amidst arid lands and a contaminated sunset in what could be Tokyo or Mexico City (really any giant metropolis where you’re bobbing your head right now) dodging traffic, checking your social network for your next high. That trumpet again—mad. The traces of Arca's haunted piano, obliterated into the nebula of his signature sound continuum. For the grand finale, we pray. A chorus of haunting tragedy unfolds, and post modern cathedrals collapse in the darkness of the second decade of our young century.