Cifras EP, Cltrlsndtrck
PIR▲.MD Records, Mexico
by Adrian Mata-Anaya
As an audio project, the Cifras EP (PIR▲.MD Records, MX, 2012) involves the expounding of Cltrlsndtrck's musical models rather than the exploration of the artist's impending pursuits. Gloria Lasso, a long-past international diva, is our taxidermy figurine. The Catalunyan, previously performing as a Spaniard in France and then Mexico, has been re-imagined as entirely Mexican. The music of Lasso is indiscernible in Cifras and non-divergent from Cltrlsndtrck’s brain-feeding sound. The lack of resistance made by the stimulated Gloria Lasso, probably attributable to her digital absenteeism, is equated as an endorsement for Cltrlsndtrck and even Arts (MX).
Panning outward, PIR▲.MD Records is releasing a crowdsourced audio-visual sketchbook in the Cifras EP. It is completely digital in presentation, though we cannot ignore it as a product of craft art social scene (usually IRL). The visual-side of the EP involves the collection of five figure-centric paintings, each by a unique illustrator. PIR▲.MD Records states that each image is a digital postcard to be pasted onto a corresponding audiopage. This is not necessarily the most rewarding analogy, considering there are six songs and only five illustrations. To cover the EP’s tracks, I might add a “Footage Not Found” screencap for the future-step trance “Sexta Cifra.”
That’s not to say that this EP is anywhere near forgettable. On the contrary, “4ta Cifra” with our main feature, the entry’s titular image, is as dance-worthy in its rhythm as it is dream-woven in its narrative:
A Bladerunner-esque, smog wave begins to pour in the 4th minute. We’re hurried into an underground club. The space is well-lit, as it allows in natural light, which bleeds together with some watercoloring of acid, allowing us a full glimpse of every adolescent reggaetonto dancing around us. Now we're trippin’, tongues seem to vomit out of their mouths. Now speaking in and out of tongues, I grab what’s right in front me, I’m tripen’. Sirens flash red and blue. I'm abducted by a fuming black and blue alien, speaking Hungarian with a Mexican accent.
Edgar MT's "Reggaetongue" postcard has been delivered: “Greetings from MY▲MX"