Review | Juana Molina’s seventh album her darkest and most beautiful
The Argentinian folktronic composer uses her expressive vocals to super spooky effect
Halo
Crammed Discs
After abandoning acting for music more than two decades ago, Juana Molina has been on a long and interesting sonic journey. Although the Argentinian folktronic composer has never followed a formulaic songwriting structure, each of her albums has been an extension of the previous and, while far from traditional, 2013’s Wed 21 felt the most accessible. Perhaps it was simply the introduction of an electric guitar. On her seventh album, Molina is accompanied by three bandmates. Where previously the multi-instrumentalist played everything herself, together they create a well-fitting jigsaw of loops and winding, off-kilter rhythms, layering acoustic and electronic elements with Molina’s trance-like vocals to build hypnotic soundscapes, rich in texture and melody. Often the lyrics are deliberately indiscernible, with Molina using her expressive Spanish vocals as a percussive instrument, adding an extra dimension of spookiness to what is arguably her darkest and most beautiful collection to date.
