This are moments of sanctification of everything that has a whiff of wonky inflammation and deformation, Mwëslee advances with "EuroCarne" towards increasingly personal spaces where the use of limpness and the free pumping of bass low frequencies loses importance in favour of a more flowery and dynamic stroke, more organic and mutable that aspires to the value of song in the traditional sense of the term. Further from insisting on the use of the loop and sampler that adorned his "Megaplast EP" (Nod Navigators, 2006), the producer from Vigo focuses his energy on developing his skills of synthetic writing, one that prefers the human touch always exposed to error. What used to be arranged on a laptop screen you can now touch, drawn by fingernails on the keyboard, and the general tone of the tracks is now a reflection of his range of ever expanding musical interests.
From the first musical notes of "EuroCarne" (a synthetic undulating drone reinforced by the sharp hum of Galician bagpipes that soon gives way to a sort of electro-funk meets crunk somehow between the euphoric and the neurotic), it’s clear Mwëslee is willing to step in the mud at the risk of slipping. Don’t fret pet, the irresistible boogie-flavoured eighties funk of “Nova Olimpia" (exhibiting an ability to evoke film á la Harold Faltermeyer, daring to the dislocate the rhythms because he can) and the tense, dense and stumbling post-dubstep from "Far Lop Era," slipping from keyboards that seem to want to build bridges between rave, grime and the New York downtown of three decades ago which also targets the slapped "Variations Pour CX Pallas." Inspired by the keyboard work of Terry Riley or Philip Glass, the relaxed and bright hip-hop, bathed in Sun of “Pacífico" or the synthetic drawings of "Mañana calor,” it proposes an exciting trip, entertaining and an enjoyable source of enjoyment that lasts. Luis M. Rguez