We continue Latin Grammy Week with some Mexican TSJ-wave…
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[6.64]
Iain Mew: A new wave rock glide, in the niche of “Dakota” and that Ulises Hadjis song we did two years ago. That’s already a niche I tend to like, but this brings something unique in the way that Spalla negotiates her way between going along with the flow and cutting against it, weightless one moment and then heavy with emotion. That and a delightfully expansive psychedelic bridge.
[8]
Will Adams: This subgenre of New Wave that bounds along at high tempos with shimmery guitar tails behind it will never not appeal to me. The modulation in the bridge is a genuine surprise, but a welcome one.
[7]
Alfred Soto: Sounds like Hospitality or War on Drugs but with gauzier keyboards and a committed vocal.
[6]
Micha Cavaseno: Like a Pretenders song stuck on “beginning to accelerate”, flat as the highway this intends to race down.
[3]
Josh Winters: Huh, I hear celestial piano, serene vocals floating ever so delicately, and the kind of chugging bass/drum combo that makes you wanna ride with the top down as you cruise along the coastline. If I wasn’t paying any attention to the words, I would’ve sworn I’d been listening to Frankie Rose’s Interstellar.
[7]
Brad Shoup: A decent slice of organic New Wave, with Spalla gripping tight on those bass sixteenths and steady trebly piano plinks. On the bridge, the synth sends up flares while she contributes howls; I’d have loved to hear that as the song’s base.
[6]
Sabina Tang: The sonics snap and pop, but Spalla’s intonation is featherweight, even sleepy; and the tune meanders. Not quite worth hauling out the keytar and lasers.
[5]
Scott Mildenhall: Upon listening to “Crash”, the apparent resemblance between it and the “Pequeño Ladrón” intro becomes less so. Daniela Spalla could have done with some of The Primitives’ force, because while there’s a continued insistence instrumentally, it’s mindful of being too loud, as if not to wake her from the sleepwalk she’s taking. Caught between vigour and gentleness, with little to latch on to as a result.
[5]
Patrick St. Michel: This sounds so nervous, the way Daniela Spalla sings in hushed tones save for the moments when she chooses a hopeful sigh-like delivery. Even the piano notes in the chorus sound unsure of what move to make next. I just love how well it captures that weird state that comes on before a big change finally happens.
[8]
David Lee: The triumph of closure (or something resembling it) is muted, worn but present. And I appreciate eighties flourishes that suffuse instead of signify. (Even if I fall prey for them in either case.) Upon first listen, I immediately thought of “What Ever Happened,” which makes sense because this song would be at home in a Sofia Coppola movie.
[7]
Dan MacRae: Gooey with pulsations of menace, “Pequeño Ladrón” managed to melt its way into my gut pretty quickly. I feel like I’d enjoy this a tad more if I were listening to it in a neon-lit abattoir. Not sure why.
[8]
Megan Harrington: I feel like I should be doing something teenaged — circling the Delia’s catalog or walking invisibly down a crowded hallway or attempting to Irish exit the homecoming dance — when I listen to “Pequeño Ladrón.” It’s youthful and restless, constantly moving but stuck in the same place. That might sound stifled but Spalla finds little ways to run wild, true to those terrible years.
[8]
Rebecca A. Gowns: I want to start hearing this song in every teen romance movie trailer! Every CW show soundtrack! Every shoe commercial! Spalla is capable of much more interesting indie pop (see “Arruinarmelo”) but if this is her breakthrough hit, so be it.
[8]
Katherine St Asaph: A lot like “Fallschirm”: Spalla curls and purrs around her vocals, the guitars sprint victory laps, piano and backing vox propel and prettify. The song is small, but small can be life-affirming still.
[7]