Julián Mayorga – ‘Chak Chak Chak Chak’ album review: avant-garde surrealism for a post-cumbia world
THE SKINNY: Avant-garde music is an endlessly broad spectrum which incorporates everything from the blues-orientated sounds of Captain Beefheart to the pioneering performance art of somebody like Gary Wilson. Today, with the musical landscape so oversaturated with artists worldwide, it can be difficult to strike upon something truly original and experimental. For Colombian songwriter Julián Mayorga, however, this has never been a problem. His latest record, Chak Chak Chak Chak, is his ninth studio album, and yet he is still creating new and endlessly diverse avant-garde excellence.
Hailing from Colombia, Mayorga is clearly indebted to his home nation’s cultural heritage and vibrant art scene. Colombia, like many regions in Latin America, has a rich musical heritage, with a particular influence over cumbia music. Although Mayorga has not adopted an out-and-out cumbia sound, its endless adaptability is part of the genre’s appeal. On this record, Mayorga combines the blaring horns and danceable rhythms of cumbia with a variety of electronic and experimental sounds, creating a vast sonic menagerie in the process.
Chak Chak Chak Chak is the musical equivalent of being assaulted, with each new track offering a different kind of high-octane experimentalism. The composer rarely gives you, the listener, a chance to catch your breath before delving back into his anarchic repertoire. Simultaneously, though, Mayorga is adept at keeping just enough diversity within his work to stop the record from feeling too overly repetitive yet retaining a continuous narrative.
To call anything created by Mayorga ‘dull’ would be a gross oversight; I would not be surprised if the songwriter claimed never to have heard the word. That sense of excitement and surrealist euphoria certainly dominates proceedings on this album. As a listener, you cannot help but become swept up by the strange and surreal world that Mayorga creates.
Okay, it is not an album to put on for a gentle Sunday afternoon in winter, but bizarre and high-energy records are becoming increasingly difficult to find within the modern musical landscape. Mayorga fills an essential gap in the industry, and he does so with intense poise and skill.
For fans of: Wearing impossibly bright clothing all the time, watching old cartoons, and constructing intricate lives and backstories for the stray cats you see in the street.
A concluding comment from Ben’s housemate: “What is this? It’s like listening to a migraine while off my face on acid.”
Chak Chak Chak Chak track by track:
Release date: November 15th | Producer: Julián Moayorga | Label: Glitterbeat Records
‘No te comas las blaquísimas mofetas’: Throwing you immediately into the deep end of Moayorga’s unique composition style, the opening track of this record features blaring horns, haunting electronica, energetic vocal delivery and what sounds like a constant alarm. Make no mistake about it, this is not a gentle Sunday afternoon record. [4/5]
‘La muerte del perro’: Continuing to expand upon his weird and wonderful world, Moayorga sings tender vocals over an endlessly diverse and, at points, abrasive backing track. The rising intensity creates something of an uneasy feeling to the song, which never really dissipates as the album progresses. [3.5/5]
‘Sueño con culebras’: More artists should include retro phaser sounds within their music. They help to add a sense of futurism to proceedings here when accompanied by Moayorga’s usual eclectic soundscapes. [4/5]
‘La venganza de las wawas panches’: Slowing things down just a little bit, Mayorga adopts a slightly more mellow atmosphere in this effort. These constant changes in pace and sonic diversity prevent Chak Chak Chak Chak from ever dull; you truly cannot tell what is going to happen next. [3/5]
‘El Vorrh’: Now, we move back to the alarm sounds and musical anarchy which prevailed earlier on in the track listing. It is difficult, yet entertaining, to imagine what the studio sessions for this record were like, as you cannot help but imagine Mayorga frantically running around the room while recording this song. [3.5/5]
‘Tres tristes transeuntes’: As the album reaches its midway point, the Colombian songwriter shows no signs of slowing down proceedings. In comparison to other tracks on this album, ‘Tres tristes transeuntes’ is fairly normal in its composition, yet it still features the chaotic menagerie of sound that Mayorga has become synonymous with. [4/5]
‘El dia en que el Tolima se hundio hasta el fondo del mar’: The rough English translation of this song is ‘The day the Tolima sank to the bottom of the sea’, and it sees Moayorga explore, with a certain degree of excitement, the idea of the Colombian region succumbing to the ocean. If that does not sell you on the track, what will? [4/5]
‘¿El trabajo yo para qué lo quiero?’: Drawing upon everything from cumbia and carnival culture to electronic experimentalism, this is among the most diverse offerings on the album and one of the finest as a result. [4.5/5]
‘Semolina’: A driving drumbeat gives way to Mayorga’s usual musical chaos. It almost sounds as if this song was recorded with swathes of high-pitched flies in the recording booth, barely being drowned out by the extensive instrumentation. [3.5/5]
‘Los rolos angloparlantes’: The psychedelic surrealism of Mayorga’s work is laid bare on the album’s penultimate track, seeing the composer pay tribute to the music heritage of his home nation, as well as driving that music forward into bizarre and captivating new avenues. [4/5]
‘Arda la ciudad cuando arrecie el monte’: Fittingly, given that the album began with high-energy avant-garde compositions, Mayorga leaves listeners with a very similar atmosphere on the closing effort. [4.5/5]
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