Songs Of Love And Death

Son is the fourth album from Argentine singer-songwriter Juana Molina, and hopefully it will be the one that introduces her unique talent to a worldwide audience.
Indeed, ‘unique’ is a word that is bandied about rather too often, but this is one record that is well worthy of the definition. Bjork is the only reference point that immediately springs to mind, and even in that case, it’s the two artists’ singularity of vision that could be compared, not their sound.
Molina has developed a deliciously eccentric style, burying her rich acoustic-folk melodies beneath a bizarre range of moods and textures.
Her sense of rhythm is particularly unusual: the percussive effects on Son sound homespun on first contact, but they slide and skitter wildly out of control, just when you feel you have a handle on them.
Her voice is nothing extraordinary, but she uses studio trickery and multi-tracking to mould it into bizarre new shapes.
Son is a mood-piece, best enjoyed from top-to-bottom in a single sitting, but there are a handful of particularly breathtaking moments.
‘Yo No’ moves from nice to nasty with a grace that few could match: beginning as soft, coffee-house folk pop, before building to a jackhammer conclusion that recalls the Aphex Twin at his most caustic.
‘Un Beso Llega’ is druggy and hypnotic, bordering on free jazz at times, and contains a delirious mid-section which twists Molina’s vocals to sound like an alien cat-fight.
The title track is ghostly and angelic – an otherworldly electronic lullaby, with a beautifully simple melody.
At no point does Son sound wilfully obtuse – this is an artist indulging her love of experimentation and musical eccentricity, because that is what she does best.