Stuff I listened to whilst studying Spanish in Sucre, Bolivia last month.
|1||The Devin Townsend Project|
In the home of the coca leaf, being in the same room as a gram of Bolivian dancing powder is likely to earn you a bullet in the spleen. So just sip some mate (coca tea), put this on, and imagine you're in a spaceship snorting the wild stuff off the sublimely-sculpted breasts of an opera-singing alien succuba. With robots and coffee somewhere in the equation.
This is the perfect vacation music. It goes so far beyond cheese, it's veritably calcium-rich transcendence. I'm not even going to try to do it justice in this small space (although I have a slobbering hero-worship liturgy of a review in the pipeline). Just listen to it.
The New Normal
This is the album of my life, which is what just about any Sydneysider with too much money and too few people skills will tell you. So you might like it if you're Swedish or something.
Bolivians are too damn nice for their own good. To stay grounded while you're over there, you'll need some good ol' vapid, developed-world misanthropy from the world's most successful spoiled brat. Maybe it was the altitude sickness, but I found this quite clever and funny in parts. Not a masterpiece, but underrated.
Speak For Yourself
Bolivian organisational philosophy is a simple matter of throwing all relevant articles together in a pot/hole/building/jungle/armed camp. This album will help you make sense of it.
|6|| ||Igor Stravinsky|
The Rite of Spring
A ballet about a girl dancing herself quite literally to death may not be the best motivational music for throwing yourself into Bolivian nightlife. Unless you're the type who thinks Eminem is funny, of course.
|7||The Mars Volta|
"Asilos Magdalena" is in Spanish, so I translated it as a piece of homework (which is not to say I get the point of the flaming thing). One of the most difficult albums in my collection, so it gives me plenty of hours of entertainment... well, consternation, mostly.
|8|| ||The Herd|
The Sun Never Sets
Surrounded by Bolivians and Danes, I was determined not to lose my Aussie accent. But a Canadian I met at the end of the trip confirmed that I had done so nonetheless.
Angel of Babylon
More of the cheesy shit. Becomes spellbindingly sophisticated and immersive with the aid of a bottle of rum.
Ingenious. Insane. Indescribable. While I was half-drunk, anyway.