Wednesday, May 17th, 2017

Planeta No – Maricón Zara

Commenter’s glib theory disproven, head explodes…


Juana Giaimo: Most of the new bands in the Chilean pop scene show interest in the ’90s, and Planeta No isn’t an exception, but they have redefined this sound by approaching queerness in a straightforward way. The first part of “Maricón Zara” has a melancholic sound where Gonzalo García, in hurt, lingering vocals, sings lines like “They rejected us before starting.” But Planeta No leaves behind the victimization in the second, more upbeat half, with a sudden indifference for the opinion of society and even a certain rejoicing in how García sings “Talking to them about their oldest son / he lives with me in the city / and we get really high and we never do anything.” This apathy that was so characteristic of the ’90s portrays this split situation they are forced to be immersed in — apathy isn’t exactly a winning feeling, just the best they can get. 

Alfred Soto: Kick drum, tea kettle synth, distorted vocals — they earn the title queerness, I suppose. But to what end?

Iain Mew: A minute of indie whine over wistful lite-disco, followed by a thumping wind tunnel bridge that expands to take over the rest of the song. It has the feeling of an intriguing amuse-oreille at the start of an album, rather than a single, but that’s still something.

Katherine St Asaph: It’s too early to be nostalgic for 2008 Hype Machine indie-pop tracks that you delete after a minute of listlessness or one second of vocals.

Maxwell Cavaseno: Sounds like a choir from The Island of Misfit Failed Indie Singles From a Decade Ago, strewn to shore with little nourishment. Maybe that’s the point, maybe not. But it’s mystifying to think that there’s something more for these familiar choices to give.

Will Adams: For a song structured a bit like Martha’s “Ice Cream and Sunscreen” — two distinct halves in which endearing indie twee gives way to a big emotional catharsis in the span of two minutes — it feels like so much less happens here. The short runtime isn’t used to its full potential, so no matter how lovely the halves are, its complacency lets it down.

Ryo Miyauchi: “Maricón Zara” tastes so bittersweet because no matter how vividly they flesh out the sounds in their heads, Planeta No know the trio are hopeless dreamers. And my, how blissful the dream, as innocent and romantic as those fuzzy Casio synths. When the song enters its latter part, it gives way to one of the most liberating breakdowns I’ve heard this year. During that brief moment, they sound so free and self-realized. I just wish they never come down from that high.

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One Response to “Planeta No – Maricón Zara”

  1. loool header