Review Summary: Los Planetas latest outing is packed with some gems on side A, but amidst the general monotony of side B.
In recent years, Los Planetas' patented brand of Granadan noise pop has garnered a cult following, even reaching the United States. From the early days of their careers, classic tracks and (earworms) such as "De Viaje" and "Que Puedo Hacer" provided just the necessary hook to solidify them as one of Spain's most prominent indie bands. Building on a lengthy career, Los Planetas have undergone quite the transformation in sound, partially abandoning the angst of their youthful output, including its reliance on fuzzy guitars and noise. In its absence, the group seems to favor a more eclectic, adult timbre, recently spanning from flamenco nuevo, dream pop, neo-psychedelia, etc. "Las canciones del agua," perhaps due to its seeming non-uniformity, succeeds in highlighting Los Planetas' range, almost as if it were the unintentional culmination of all that has come before it.
There is, however, arguable ambiguity regarding whether or not Las Canciones del Agua should be considered an album or a compilation - over half of the tracks: "El negacionista," "La Nueva Normalidad," "El Rey de Espana," "El Antiplanetismo," and "Alegrias de Grana," have already been released and digested as a string of post-pandemic singles. Still, the non-single "El Manantial" is undoubtedly one of Los Planetas' great works. Featuring a poem from Federico Garcia Lorca's "Libro de Poemas" (1921), the track follows an interweaving piano, layering on top of it lush acoustic instrumentation and some sparse orchestration. Jota's vocals flow into a stream of consciousness, not unlike the record's name-sake "agua," as the great Andalusian poet's confrontation with the mystery of nature receives sonic life. "El Manantial" is the true highlight of the record.
In "Se Quiere Venir," Los Planetas attempt to salvage and transform a drill song from the Granadan rapper Khaled, but only allow the original's malaise to bleed through to Jota's voice. The band hides the ballad "Se Quiere Venir" behind considerable melodic layering and invention, drawing from flamenco influence and bolstering with enjoyable synth hooks. "Alegrias de Grana" also draws heavily from flamenco influence. Stylistically romantic, the song features flamenco guitarist Edu Espin and, as the title suggests, serves as an ode to Granada - a recurring motif throughout side A, which rounds off with a rock rendition of fellow Granadan Carlos Cano's "La Moralla." A more traditional "Planetan" song, "La Moralla" serves as a kind tribute to the late Carlos Cano, but falls far short of the better-constructed (and more natural) original.
"La Nueva Normalidad" marks a shift in lyrical tone for "Las canciones del agua." The song paints a picture of riotousness, or revolt, inspired by the death of George Floyd. Sonically, there isn't much to harp on here, and setting aside some triumphant wind and brass arrangements, "La Nueva Normalidad" is just too repetitive and monotonous to warrant praise - the track's idealism and escapism perhaps take precedence over the actual music. Barring "El Nagacionista," which captures a glimmer of the more jovial "Super 8" and "Una semana en el motor de un autobus," side B is rife with the soft monotony found in "La Nueva Normalidad." "El Ray de Espana" is nothing to write home about, and "El Apocalipsis Zombie" is redeemed only by its amusing (and contextually endearing) lyrical content. It's not until the final track, "El Antiplanetismo," that the listener finds a reward for their patience: an expansive finale, which appears to have drawn influence from Nick Drake. "El Antiplanetismo" stands out for its lack of hostility and melodic emphasis, a breath of fresh air in an otherwise frustrating string of songs.
