Tuesday, December 15th, 2020

Triangulo de Amor Bizarro – Fukushima

Making a reappearance, a decade later…


Ian Mathers: I was first introduced to Triangulo de Amor Bizarro (here at TSJ, even!) via a song and video that struck me as so immediately ingratiating it’s one of those cases where even knowing that there’s no accounting for taste I get a little knee-jerk suspicious if someone doesn’t like it. I’m bringing them back as my own Amnesty pick something like a decade later because I’m intrigued at how successful a song they’ve made out of basically the same parts while having a near-opposite effect. “Fukushima” is all about that slow build and once it gets to a full boil its happy to just stay there, as opposed to the way on first listen it sometimes felt like “De la Monarquía a la Criptocracia” was throwing a new hook or chorus at you every twenty seconds. I’m not here to say either approach is better, exactly; I’m mostly just glad we have both.

Katherine St Asaph: The first two minutes are colossal, the first track I’ve heard in a while to evoke the feel and not just the electronics of The Knife’s Silent Shout — suppose you thought the KNIFEHORSE remix of “Marble House” didn’t sound enough like the world ending. Triangulo de Amor Bizarro don’t quite seem to know what they’ve got, and inevitably botch the payoff, in this case by expanding one of the synth riffs into overly perky-goth pop. But even that half is still pretty good.

Will Adams: Two great tastes that go better together: gargantuan synth sturm und drang and hazy new wave, both tied together via a vocalist signaling the end of the world.

Austin Nguyen: The liminal atmospheres of Annie and post-oblivion ethos of Susanne Sundfør (“En la periferia / No hay nada que hacer / En la periferia / No hay nada que perder”) wrapped around a Tesla coil until the rain washes it away to New Order comparisons around the 3-minute mark. A rebirth to a lesser form, but a cathartic one nonetheless, as if the memory of this “tú” was too much for the song to continue as is.

Crystal Leww: We last covered Triangulo de Amor Bizarro a decade ago, on a “bog-standard indie” track of theirs. The band claims that their latest album is their “first contemporary pop album”. “Fukushima” sounds exactly like what a band named after a New Order song who made bog standard indie rock music ten years ago would believe that pop music sounds like. It’s all repetitive drums, guitars we’ve heard before, and a vocal that is like, Sonic Youth but with a Spanish chick. Different for them, but not for the rest of us. 

Tim de Reuse: Starting from a discordant, horror-movie whine, it interpolates smoothly into spiky arpeggios and a double-time beat over the course of six minutes — and if it had taken any less than six minutes to get from here to there it would have felt rushed and gimmicky. The thematic movement still isn’t subtle, and the resulting structure has very clear seams on it, but it’s lopsided in a charming, ambitious way; the messiness of the journey only helps the jangly triumph of the finale.

Alfred Soto: A reasonable simulation of Fever Ray’s sustained horrorshow atmospherics yields to neo-Goth soul with enough echo the Mariana Trench. Shorn of a minute and it would’ve been excellent. 

Juana Giaimo: “Fukushima” flows organically throughout its six minutes. The opening synths are full of tension while the vocals sound ghostly. With every verse the lyrics get more mysterious, her voice more intense, with less distance between the verses, until her voice sings loud and full of yearning: “You don’t give me anything that occupies my memory, that writes that empty space where you were.” After that, the song repeats itself but in a different way. Now that all the tension was released, a simple beat appears with a gloomy and playful arrangement of synths — I just wish there was less control and more of those emotions teased in the climax.

Michael Hong: All efforts to expand outward are met with resistance — the track is a contradiction, a disaster waiting to happen. The tension of those early trilling strings never really dissipates, but instead, just as the track starts to open up and race forward, those razor-sharp twinkling piano keys point inward, a grand implosion of sound.

Nortey Dowuona: Swirling synths hide behind the racing bass and crashing kicks and smushed snares. A thin steely synth settles over the thin keening voice as advancing, creepy synths also join in, washed over by straight edged filters that fade and leave the voice to hover in the air. A new cyclone of hovering drums approaches with an eye of synth waves, lifting the steely facade and plastering the voice into the eye. The voice gently pleas, lilting and wavering, straining to lift out of the maelstrom and slowly ascend towards the sun, the rays cutting through the mix, leaving the bass to crumble and the synths to be blown to the winds.

Rachel Saywitz: “Fukushima” is terrifyingly ominous on its own — a grim, six-minute opus held by the soaring, melancholic vocals of lead singer Isabel Cea — but it might help to know that the band listed the song as one “about human loneliness in a world of machines build for our entertainment.” It’s almost as if the band knew we’d all one day be held captive to electronic screens in order to both communicate with each other and ease our own increasing loneliness. There have been many songs released this year that try to accurately capture the hellscape of this year, but Triangulo de Amor Bizarro may have taken the cake with this one.

Reader average: [0] (10 votes)

Vote: 0   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10

One Response to “Triangulo de Amor Bizarro – Fukushima”

  1. Wow, this did way better than I thought it would! And FWIW I agree with at least part of Crystal’s blurb – if I’d known they described this album that way I would have rolled my eyes almost as hard as when Broken Social Scene not only claimed that, but that they were making pop music (they weren’t) for a change because it was ‘easier’ (it isn’t)