The song gets a [6.71]… BUT THE KITTEN GETS A !
Ryo Miyauchi: “Bajo la lluvia” can be described as “demo-like.” The brittle beat, filled with an overwhelming amount of silence, would back that claim up. But I find the song complete as is. Violeta Castillo sounds like she’s jotting down a thought before the essence of it was gone forever. It just so happened the first thought was also the best thought.
Juana Giaimo: While in her previous single “Envuelta” Violeta Castillo found herself lost in her own song, in “Bajo la lluvia” the music adapts to her absentmindedness. Her melancholic hushed voice is silently joined by low synths and a steady slow beat as she messes up lines that doesn’t seem to have a lot to do with each other, except that they all reflect that certain uncomfortable nature of hers — which she so well expresses in the lines: “You ask me to put myself in orbit/and I try to arrive in a diagonal.” But before she can make a conclusion, the song ends, as if she didn’t have more energy to keep going, or as if she got lost once again in her own mind, or simply because there was nowhere else to go.
David Sheffieck: The climactic swell comes with little warning and is all the more striking for it — a slow build that happens quickly, and is gone as swiftly as it begins. In the lead-up, Castillo’s vocal and the production mirror each other: pensively gliding, or brightly skipping forward. It’s an intriguing song, over almost too soon.
Claire Biddles: Some interesting moments — the squelchy synth break, the spacey piano towards the end — but overall this feels directionless and meandering, never quite finding its hook.
Jessica Doyle: Gentle, careful, but not boring or unchallenging. It reminds me of being a child, being fascinated by the different tracks raindrops would make against the car window.
Alfred Soto: This worried nugget, whose electric piano sounds recorded in the same canyon as Thom Yorke’s on Kid A, carves a space in which rue and longing don’t turn in on themselves; when the acoustic piano enters the track it’s the proverbial sunshine.
Jonathan Bradley: Castillo takes the cotton snares and tentative, rounded synth pulses of Kid A and reconfigures them into a tiny intricate popscape. Her voice dances along in dainty melodic patterns, ushered, for a time, by obtrusive, bold handclaps that threaten to break through the layers of warm solitude swaddling the track. They don’t; rather, the delicate tendrils of tune grow wild, and, in a moment, they’ve blotted out the whole thing.