Maybe for five years the Mostoleño project tourist Office [Trippin’You] has managed to sell us the idea that his aggressively nihilistic lyrics were totally outside of any type of reflection or overthought attention. But we, our listeners, knew that behind his encrypted message hid a clear cry for help and a sincere and raw emotional aspect that we now find more exposed and palpable than ever in the hands of “Emptyer” (Helsinkipro, 23): the fourth studio album by the group composed of Adrián Bremner, Elinor Almenara and Salvador Urbaneja and a kind of tribute to the protagonists and those responsible for the moments witnessed in Vaciador 34, the self-managed cultural center in Madrid which saw them grow artistically and which unfortunately was stripped of its identity by an investment fund after the pandemic, after being transformed into an office complex.
It is precisely this context, halfway between farewell and tribute, that makes us witness that most thoughtful and conscious part of the trio, whose prose now seems less sagacious but also more determined to put its finger in the hole. They have had their share, and the direct consequence of this is this new bunch of verses, more literal and visceral, repeated almost to the point of paroxysm (“All fucking life is the same”, they roar from their dizzying start) and converted into mantras with the spirit of a generational anthem. For its part, “Emptyer” seems to have been created oblivious to the apparent and difficult task of matching its celebrated predecessor (“Turboviolence”to date considered one of the band’s flagship albums and an icon within the current wave of electronic post-punk), and for this reason we see it evolve without ambitions or pretensions between samples, cuts, edits and winks of complex compatibility (from Crystal Castles to Safri Duo, through The KLF) as well as internal jokes (to those private conversations between UK Garage rhythms in “Rush” we refer). They thus manage to turn their respective cuts into an enjoyable walk through the different genres of the hardest electronic music (from witch house to dubstep, through trance and more textbook bakalao), without taking prisoners and ensuring that the shared euphoria ends up being the best possible goodbye and the fuel of all rebellion (“Our last mission is to die killing, kill the high command”we hear between pitched voices and hardcore bases in “KLF”),
If desired, the album can be read through the aforementioned conceptuality that latently underlies its development, since it is no coincidence that the album starts with a song titled “Zugzwang” (which in chess terms gives the name to a move of forced movement that will leave the player in a clearly worse position than his starting point) and concludes with another entitled “Ctrl + Alt + Supr” (whose multiple readings show us that those responsible have ended up being aware of the power of changes and their irreversible consequences). But their path does not require any linearity to be enjoyed and with the help of a generous string of guest producers (Cernadas, One Path, Marco Henri, InnerCut and more) we see the trio sharpen their tone without hesitation (making Juan’s vision their own Carlos Girauta on Generation Z in “Mediocres y Agresivos”), taking us from parkineo until the lights of Sunday dawn (“Hikutsu“) and offering us the opportunity to listen to its conclusive outcome between grateful female voice notes and frantic collapse (“The Crack“). Whether or not the trio has underpinned their definitive retirement with this work is something that only they know, but without a doubt the listeners will be able to ascertain after listening to the need not to lose them so soon, and much less after during this short but intense interval. years have managed to convince us that there is more heart in accelerated bpm than meets the eye.