Cerca:urban dwellers

With one foot in the Mexican underground rock scene and the other one in the global tape trading circuit, Las Ánimas del Cuarto Obscuro found themselves in the middle of a crossroad after their first LP. México wasn´t the same country as when the band first started. Even though access to non-commercial music still was a difficult task in the late eighties, the fringes of culture had way more resources thanks to the stubbornness of certain anonymous heroes: dwellers of El Tianguis Cultural del Chopo, niche record stores, illegal underground parties and hosts of late night Mexican public radio shows.


Ubiquitous social unrest expressed itself in every way possible. The aftermaths of the 1985 earthquake weren’t the only matters on the table. Protests erupted after a rigged presidential election and a student strike hit Mexico’s biggest public university. This was just the tip of the iceberg of issues PRI’s perfect dictatorship was or wasn’t addressing. The clash of the authoritarian regime against new and fresh ideas.


If the first record was about the loneliness of self-destructive youth and it’s urban phantasmagories, LACO’s second LP dealt with change as the axis of human existence. Las Ánimas is just the beginning of the sonic metamorphosis Toño Sánchez went through until this very moment.
The departure of former bandmembers set a different approach towards more experimental and atmospheric sounds. As the project’s only member, Toño Sanchez took an alchemical trip aiming for more mysterious horizons.


Despite the fact that we can still find conventional dark pop and catchy songwriting, the record rests on sound landscapes closer to Jorge Reyes or Tuxedomoon and This Heat than the orthodox ways of so called post-punk, seasoned of course with the lack of music gear and the economic reality prevalent in Mexico of those convulsed times.


Las Ánimas is a goodbye letter to underground but not because the next move is the mainstream. Far away from it, it’s a farewell to traditional rock and a the first steps down into the depths. From now on, Toño Sánchez will dedicate his musical efforts to weirder sounds and scarcer audiences in the search of the arcane, possessed by a mania of constant change that infects the soul after crossing the black door’s threshold.

*TIP* Previously released on Low Company in 2023, now back... a weirdo lo fi gem

Naturestrip, Naarm, Australia write:

"purely physical teeny tapes perform an invaluable public service in exhuming static cleaner lost reward’s ‘breathing under honey from the heady year o’ 2023’, a slack-jawed riddle within the all-consuming enigma that is thee world of tarquin manek™.

few records command a reissue so soon after their release, the soil heaped atop the (sainted) low company corpse still remaining more than a little damp, but this one’s discreet-to-the-point-of-fury initial release justifies the flogging of the proverbial carked horse, boiled back down into glue for a fresh round of rollicking mucky. arriving as the last release on that fine imprint, ‘breathing under honey’ represents (obliquely, natch) something of a convenient summary of that aforementioned elegantly sloshed world™, condensing as it does the artist’s proclivities exercised among the sweetest of contemporary depth-dwellers, articulated alongside/within y.l. hooi, bum creek, carla dal forno, f ingers, kallista kult, under endless solo monikers…the fun never ends.

let loose here in a suitably gonzo/spellunked mood, the second full-length under the static cleaner moniker (see debut $mile$ from 2013 thru altered states) is compiled of delirious half-thoughts & riddimic gestures accumulated between 2013 & 2020, everything wet & awash with a fine sprouting of lysergic mush between its digits. the implication thereof might suggest something schlonky or amateurish, but fear not, prospective listener, for your ears are in the sticky hands of one of the finest shit-savant prodigies these times have known, crud-caked technoid shapes & blissed pop-glob nous submerged in sublime dubbed-out grog, the resulting sonar-pong shards positively chemical in their ability to simultaneously slant + seduce.

think: martin denny face-deep in a paper bag at the black ark, graciously fucked tropicalia, liquid dub techno housed in vat of spiked quaff, the skaters infiltrating urban tribe, lopsided + caked to the nines in glitter for the gutter.

utterly tranced, sumptuous/sweet & patently ill. a classique of this modern horror epoch if there ever was one."

The 4th full-length by Tokyo Metropolis electronica entity UNKNOWN ME, Bishintai, is a sublime synthetic suite of cosmic wellness transmissions exploring “the unknown beauty of your mind and body,” appropriately named for a kanji compound meaning “beauty, mind, body.” Crafted with software, synthesizer, steel drum, rhythm boxes, and robotic voice by the core quartet of Yakenohara, P-RUFF, H. Takahashi, and Osawa Yudai, the album unfolds like a holographic guided meditation, soothing but cybernetic, framed by subways and sky malls. Latticework electronics flicker with texture, glitch, wobble, and mirage, themed around sensory perception and body parts.

A diverse cast of collaborators assist in actualizing the collection's uniquely urban expression of new age ambient, from psychedelic footwork riddler foodman to multi-instrumentalist institution Jim O'Rourke to Japanese underground shape-shifters MC.Sirafu and Lisa Nakagawa. Although the group cites a therapeutic muse (“made for the maintenance of the minds of city dwellers”), Bishintai shimmers with an alien strangeness, too, like decentralized relaxation systems obeying sentient circuits. This is music of utopia and nowhere, channeling worlds within worlds, birthed from a sonic ethos as simple as it is sacred: “in pursuit of beautiful tones.”