El disco rayado: Bocanada
It has already been said, but I will repeat it: Cerati is sophistication and exquisiteness; it is, quite simply, a modern. One day he walked into a home electronic sound device store, bought his best AKAI MPC, and the imbalance began right there.
Bocanada (BMG, 1999) is a handmade record in the basement of his house. Him, his voice, his guitar, his Japanese plastic box, and the luminescent substance that makes up his brain. The rest are finishing touches. What is this, gentleman? There is no right to be so good. Tell me something, for example, about the voice of this bug? It is rough and smooth, thick and thin, hard and soft, blue and red; like that of a mannered radio host, or like those women of character, like Broselianda Hernández, who have the most beautiful voice in the world.
The sensations are just bits of reality, drafts, distortions. They give us clues about her. They will tell you that only the sensations are reality, but ignore it. There is reality, and there is the perception of it, well separated. Another thing is that one is less interested in reality itself than in the ways in which it expresses itself, but this does not mean that there is not one. Listening to this album you always have the feeling that the song that sounds is better than the previous one.
When you think, at the level of Verbo carne, the eighth track, that everything is done, that Gus did not give for more after crossing the Atlantic and recording with the London Symphony in the very Abbey Road, you run into Raíz , creative abuse that you don't really know if it's a chacarera, a bossa nova, or an Enigma song; And so it happens constantly, until the end. It's not that the last track is the one I like the most, it's that the album has no bumps. In general it happens to me - although not so much anymore - that I don't like some songs just because they go after the ones I like the most. Hasn't it happened to you? (I think fast of Mother, the track that comes after Another Brick in The Wall II on the Pink Floyd album). It is not that there is something wrong with them, it is that they are not as good as the previous one. Well, that is never going to happen here. That's what I mean.
But the real star of this album, what makes it unique for me, is the maturity of the dialogue, the one between the electronic sound and Cerati's guitar. Go Deceive, or Beautiful, or Forgive is divine. There is not a single excess there, not a single decibel excess; everything is moderation and order, fair dose, prudence of volume. I remember that in Plastic Education classes they told you that the sheet had to be drawn completely, that there could be no blank places. I never succeeded, not without the balance of the drawing feeling it. Here's to that. Not about what I was doing, about the other, about harmony and good sense. Only one teacher was able to cover all the sound space, without many silences, and that the noisemaker did not arm himself. A jewel this blue square.
Carlos M. Mérida
Oidor. Coleccionista sin espacio. Leguleyo. Temeroso de las abejas y de los vientos huracanados.