Latin

REVIEW: Helado Negro - Island Universe Story Four

Phillipe Roberts

Nine years and ten records deep into recording under the alias of Helado Negro, Roberto Carlos Lange is a master of the changeup. His last record, the brutally intimate Private Energy, swung for the fences lyrically; conceived in the wake of the murder of Michael Brown, Lange dredged up questions of Latinx identity and questioned the possibility of human connection as the American Dream crashed into a cascading nightmare. Daring, yet vulnerable to a degree that other Helado Negro releases had yet to reach, its accessible sonic palette presented a rare blueprint for Lange, a roadmap for an artist continually dancing away from convention.

Or so we thought. This year’s followup, Island Universe Story Four, pulls from a wholly different bag of tricks, flipping a switch and bringing the beat in. His brand of poetic-synthetic pop hasn’t lost an ounce of earworm potency, but Lange has never before seemed so invested in simply moving bodies. Helado Negro was never a particularly wordy project, and the laptop wizardry of arranging and rearranging guest contributions, stretching them into forms his collaborators never dreamed of, are absolutely the dominant feature of his work. But still, a seven-song stretch of this album features no vocals (aside from the occasional field recording for flavor), and only one, “Guardar Our Are,” highlights his Spanish. Dress it up however you like, but Island Universe Story Four is an outlier, and a unique chance to probe an untapped dimension in the mind of Roberto Carlos Lange.

Album opener “Come Be Me” is as deceptive as it is catchy. His voice swinging lazily between the album’s most purely organic instrumentation, Lange tries his hand at a pop standard—the friend-zone anthem—and emerges with a track that wouldn’t sound out of place washing over a crowd from a summer festival main stage. “I’ve been talking about you / To everyone / So they know / We’re fine,” he coos in broken whispers, cloaking his infatuation in shaky reassurances. Internal confusion aside, the sunny instrumentation, chirping with synthesizer beeps and a steady tambourine backbeat, is the album’s emotional highpoint.

From there, Lange pulls a full 180, diving straight into disco hysterics. “ECHO 2” starts and stops, bubbling over with bright, gauzy synths reminiscent of Neon Indian, while a single manipulated vocal note provides a hint of garbled melody. “Source One” takes a polyrhythmic detour, flying through city streets with a nervous energy that subsides on the downtempo “Mist Universe.” The tracks in this electronic stretch are almost all less than three minutes, turning it into a bit of a mini DJ set. The energy flows freely between tracks, keeping it light and fun until “QWERTY,” the longest track, burns it all down with some exceptionally funky powerhouse grooving, manically dueling between handclaps and hi-hats. Full-blown extended rave-outs are a rare treat from Helado Negro, and it’s incredibly satisfying hearing him flex that hidden sixth sense for giving the dance floor what it needs.

Falling into a series of three other cassettes, Island Universe Story Four might not be the best entry point into the catalogue of Helado Negro. Its constant switches in direction and focus on sound design over clear melody turn it into something like Brian Eno’s Another Green World with a backbeat. Within the universe that Roberto Carlos Lange is trying to build, it’s a beautiful destination to visit. Just make sure to brace for impact.

REVIEW: Zula - Grasshopper

Will Shenton

Zula's latest LP, Grasshopper, is a triumph of genre-blending pop. Latin beats are drenched in reverb-soaked psychedelia, math-rock intricacies meet soulful grooves, and all of it is wrapped in the playful weirdness of contemporary indie experimentation. It's one of those albums you can't help but obsess over, because every listen reveals new layers of detail.

Take the appropriately blunt "Fuck This," for example. The track opens with a slightly off-kilter beat in 5 (I think? I'm no music theorist), reminiscent of Battles and their experimental ilk, before transitioning seamlessly into a dreamy, almost celestial verse. It's a song that, much like Grasshopper as a whole, grows and evolves rather than cyclically repeating. It eschews predictability without ever being hard to follow, and by the end we're given another glimpse of that opening beat to bookend the digression—as if to reassure the listener that, yes, every move here is carefully considered.

I'm reminded of Superhuman Happiness, the ensemble group whose 2015 album Escape Velocity was similarly robust and capricious. Zula is clearly a band that isn't satisfied with the status quo, yet one that also knows how to craft genuinely listenable tunes. It's rare to call anything this experimental an earworm, but Grasshopper is a surprisingly catchy record. It has something for everyone, from the risk-averse pop-head to the eccentric audiophile, and it feels like neither facet is sacrificed for its counterpart. Sometimes, great songwriting can bridge the gaps between even the most unlikely audiences.