Tuesday, November 13th, 2012

Ana Victoria – Yo No Lloro Por Llorar

From Buenos Aires via Los Angeles, it’s the daughter of South American pop royalty…


Anthony Easton: This is just lovely, a complicated and well constructed ballad, and the vocals, against everyone’s better instincts, are actually under-sung. The speed-up into a deconstructed disco sound makes it even better. 

Jonathan Bogart: It might be considered a defeat that, three albums into an attempted pop career, she had to fall back on the famous parents and cover her father’s biggest hit in her mother’s voice. Or maybe it’s that, in the language of self-important children’s films, she’s finally embraced her true destiny. The original was a disco-era hit without actually being disco, upon which Ana Victoria improves so much that the scratching guitars strut and slice, giving the lyrics’ clear-eyed kiss-off the sassiness and lack of lugubriousness they’ve always deserved.

Brad Shoup: She’s got her father’s remarkable clarity of tone. I guess that’s another way to say this is super-professional, a clean disco comedown, rattling percussion trading space with dancy upstrokes. The punctured ending lets the heartache out, if that’s what you’re looking for.

Alex Ostroff: Wait — you’re telling me that since February, I could have been listening to a song that mixes the guitars from “These Boots Are Made For Walkin'” with a disco strut and touches of funk, while topping the track off with vocals that are possibly more sultry than Nancy Sinatra’s? This is why I’m glad we have theme weeks. Ana’s delivery is impeccable — “Yo No Lloro Por Llorar” simultaneously conveys regret, anger, conviction and the perfect amount of sangfroid. This is how you do a kiss-off.

Edward Okulicz: In the ear, as much a kiss as a kiss-off. Moves like a gentle breeze, capitalising on 60s guitar and 70s glide; a genuine delicacy.

Alfred Soto: When Victoria gets husky and sultry over those flanged guitars, self-reliance has rarely sounded this powerful this year.

Josh Langhoff: Victoria’s gasps and an intimate guitar mix transform syrupy melodrama into 9½ Weeks; the bassline repurposes the original as surely as “Ghetto Superstar” did “Islands in the Stream.”

Katherine St Asaph: The noir flickers and funk guitars and Ana’s voice, from whisper to wail, are all sumptuous. The percussion, a tinny scrap, is not. Everything else is so crafted and perfect; did they just forget to replace a demo track?

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