Dick Verdult, a.k.a Dick el Demasiado is the Philip K. Dick of multi-disciplinary art, the Moby Dick of “cumbia lunática”, and the Charles Dickens of literature and experimental cinema. He first fell in love with cumbia when he heard his nursemaid singing the classic “La pollera colorá”. From this moment on, he adopted the genre and reinvented it, in a perpetual degeneration called Cumbia Lunática, twisting up the elements of traditional cumbia, the “cumbia of the mucamas”, to create an anarchotropical vertebral rhythm, one which supports every moving part.
Celulitis Illuminati is the powerful debut of the anarchotropical gentleman knight of the abstract, Dick el Demasiado, eight dangerous tracks recorded for the first time on vinyl, songs that, upon listening, will liposuck all that grotesque accumulation of adipose tissue out of buttocks and brain. They interweave an amalgam of South American folklore and the cables of electronic music, the plugged-in Ranqueles indians, as in “Asi Que Los Que Sí” (“So That Those Who Yes”) on Side A, surrealist and lugubrious beats, poetry made song and “the dead man’s drool is good for painting watercolors”, as he sings in “Búho Sin Un Ratón” (“Owl With No Mouse”).Euphony that will abduct you away to a viscous street party with “Son Cosas De Hoy” (“They’re Things For Today”) and to an eclectic and excessive dimension with “pero bien bweno” (“but very proper”).
Side B is pure dynamite: “Mecha flan” (“Pudding Fuse”), “Sábado cultural” (“Cultural Saturday”) and “En la jeta” (“In the face”) represent the perfect blend of Lucho Argain (La Sonora Dinamita) and Muslimgauze (Bryn Jones). On top of this, the album includes an as-yet unheard gem, “Llama Mi Abogado” (“Call My Lawyer”), produced by Dick himself and Manuel Schaller, the telepathic mage of the Theremin. When the Dutchman stepped off the boat and onto the block, as well as offering us the TV set, the sculpture of a deranged English woman who devours islands like they were sandwiches, the synthesizer, the sound effect, the African drum, the maraca, the indigenous whistle, he obtained for us the song and the stanza, he provided us with the language and the poetry, the truthful, the epic of the ugly. Cellulite for mortals, cumbia lunática for the enlightened ones! Alfredo Padilla (Trans. Komurki)
