Music Box | Overlooked Albums | Seeks Who Are Lovers

Mike Newmark Columnist

About a year ago, Mexican electronic producer Ángel Sánchez appeared from out of the blue and dropped two albums under two different names. One of his projects, Antiguo Autómata Mexicano, specializes in been-there-done-that minimal techno in the vein of fellow countryman Murcof: technically accomplished, emotionally blank. The second project, by contrast, is a revelation—so affecting, so beautiful and so good at what it does that it forms its moonlit world around you and makes your heart skip a beat. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Seekers Who Are Lovers.

The title of the project comes from a Cocteau Twins song of the same name, and as you might guess, Seekers Who Are Lovers represents Sánchez’s turn at atmospheric pop. You Are the Pride of Your Street leans more heavily toward the “atmospheric” end of the term, beginning as a somewhat structured proposition and gradually deliquescing as it goes on. The record’s first and poppiest song is actually a cover of Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy’s “Hard Life,” but Sánchez forgoes the folksy simplicity of the original in favor of a slow-burning torch song dominated by a heaving organ. His vocals are airy and strikingly androgynous, and they fit the emotive music like a glove. Indeed, when he sighs, “It’s a hard life / For a man / With no wife,” he doesn’t sound very manly, giving the song that extra shot of pathos that elevates it slightly above the original.

From there, You Are the Pride of Your Street plunges into more abstract mood pieces with sensuous surfaces. When I hear songs like “Cereza” and “Internal,” I picture Sanchez taking the melodies at their ends and stretching them out, pulling the plies apart so that you can hear every alteration in the sound sources. On “Internal,” glowing keyboard drones and skipping strings provide a rich, yearning backdrop for Sánchez as he pleads, “Darling, there is something I must tell you / That you don’t want to know.” The next two songs, “Cereza” and “Modern Heirs,” wink at Sánchez’s Latino heritage. The ethereal drone on “Cereza” is given substance by gorgeous Spanish guitars that echo off a balcony on some warm and misty night, while “Modern Heirs” is mambo that has been stripped, turned inside out and zoomed 200 years into the future.

By the time we reach the final track, “Cae el Mar,” we’re in an amniotic environment with Sánchez speaking directly to our subconscious. Gone are the beats and the wisps of drone, replaced by a sub-aquatic metallophone and swarms of high-pitched strings that attempt to pierce the amniotic sac. The result is both deep and deeply unsettling, and it’s only at this point that we realize how far into the world of Seekers Who Are Lovers we’ve really gone. The uncertain abyss of “Cae el Mar” suggests a transition into different waters, and whether Sánchez continues to explore ambient pop or dives down his self-imposed rabbit hole, we have good reason to be excited about Seekers Who Are Lovers’ next release.