There is little room to breathe on Jorge Espinal's debut solo effort, Bombos y cencerros, as each of the nine tracks on the album pushes the limits of listenability.
There is no mistaking Espinal's intentions to do so, filling every nook and cranny of acoustic space with a slice of guitar (and electronic drums), though here the instrument is less melodic than percussive, emphasizing the guttural nature of the stringed device. Percussive does not necessarily mean intrinsically rhythmic, for Bombos y cencerros is more drum circle than breakbeat party, voices layered over one another with little or no discernible developmental arc. In other words, for all of its horror vacui aesthetic, Bombos y cencerros is actually a testament to restraint and measured execution.
In addition to stifling listening habits, Espinal has a real knack for the repetitive, ad absurdum, so much so that it feels like the sound sources have run amok, triggering rather mindlessly, almost menacing in their insistence. Electronic bass drums collide with percussive plucking, all arrhythmically, as if Espinal wanted to somehow disarticulate the percussive from the rhythmic, isolating the properties of the former through tiny cuts that never coalesce into an overall groove. It should be said that even after repeated listens, this effect is never normalized, never becomes something I got used to. The staccato and seemingly haphazard nature of the guitar reminded me a bit of Derek Bailey, and the mixture of guitar and percussion is certainly in Oren Ambarchi's orbit, though nothing so brutally averse to a beat.
Bombos y cencerros is like auditory deconstruction, taking apart and isolating certain rhetorical figures in the hopes of turning their acoustic effects into stone. Fans of such endeavors will appreciate Espinal's unique take on the genre of experimental guitar and electronics. This is not for the faint of heart.
