Tuesday, November 13th, 2012

Piso 21 – Te Amo en la Distancia

From the 21st floor of a building in Medellín, Colombia, come three guys who sing and one guy who shreds…


[Video][Website]
[3.62]

Patrick St. Michel: A ballad right out of the box, complete with late guitar solo and the sort of lyrics that want to say so much but manage nothing of real interest.
[3]

Iain Mew: Extravagant musically (guitar solo, tinkles, wah wah bit, those strings!) and sung with few concessions to subtlety. Somehow, though, the stop-start arrangement has so much wasted, empty space that it contrives to make the song feel too small despite all of that.
[4]

Alfred Soto: They really mean the title — rote solo and perfunctory piano and blinding teeth do their darnest to keep listeners at a distance.
[2]

Brad Shoup: My solfège is… I don’t have any, so whether the chorus surges into G or something else, it’s pleasant. Everything else in this pop/rock ballad is as telegraphed as the first seconds’ cymbal rattles leading into the roll.
[4]

Alex Ostroff: I am not opposed to big gloopy romantic numbers — especially in waltz time. (I am embarrassingly prone to crying while listening to Shakira’s broken-hearted ballads in Spanish, and exactly nothing else.) Unfortunately, Piso 21 never really go for broke or for bonkers, which are the two things capable of redeeming melodramatic pap of this sort. “Tu tienes la receta de mis horas de alegría” is more intriguingly evocative than the rest of the lyrics, which are more or less a collection of clichés, but that’s about it. The music never undercuts the strength of the emotion, nor does it amplify feelings to the point of world-straddling absurdity. Piso 21 can’t dream of approaching the schmaltz of Céline. And so we’re left with a third-tier boy band dedication of eternal love that fails to inspire either devotion or befuddlement. I would say it’s still significantly better than that similarly gloopy early One Direction ballad but that had the hilariously awesome lines about anointing girls with love and making a mess of their innocence. So it’s on par.
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: You’ve heard so many ballads in waltz time: sweeping, anodyne things, where the guitar solo dutifully follows the pianos’ steps. But have you heard any in lurch time?
[2]

Jonathan Bogart: Boy-band ballads are boy-band ballads the world round: overstuffed, drippy, and excruciatingly sung. There’s still no excuse for the way these guys swallow their final syllables.
[3]

Anthony Easton: All those vaguely historical, histrionically cinematic strings, and  then the drums come in, like rum in a too sweet fruit cake. You don’t need the vocals for something this overcooked. 
[8]

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