The cover on the latest Arca reminds me of myself, the glazed over expression replicating how I look when I see the Krispy Kreme aisle in supermarkets, teeth coated in chewed up Black Jacks. It doesn’t unsettle me in the same way the demon Mutants cover does, and I feel this way about the album itself. Beauty lies within the darkest corners.
Arca brings his singing voice along for this self titled release, a pained sound in which you can hear the smacking of wet lips between each verse. This singing adds to the electronic discomfort his music creates, providing a rawness to the digital twists and turns of each track. The closest comparison would be to that of Bjork, and anything Bjork-like is never a bad thing, she’s the master of experimental electronic after all.
The vocals feel personal, I say feel for with a lack of Spanish understanding the actual content is lost, not even the CD booklet holds answers for those who wish to know. But they feel personal thanks to the emotion that can be heard from each line, and that feeling is the most important aspect, for without such emotion there would be no need for such words anyway. Who needs to know when you can feel?
Sometimes the music can soothe, and sometimes it can crack like a whip, literally in one instance. On the outside it’s all so messy, like a selection of experiments thrown together, but as each track unravels, hearts beat.