Debit's latest album Desaceleradas is a sonic experiment that slows down the Afro-Latin dance genre of cumbia to a grinding pace, transforming it into an eerie and ethereal soundworld. Mexican-American producer Delia Beatriz, aka Debit, has taken DJ Gabriel Dueรฑez's influential bootleg cassettes as her starting point, reworking them with a granular dissection of sounds that create a sense of unease.
By slowing down the fast-paced rhythms and synth syncopations of cumbia rebajada, Beatriz creates an atmosphere that is both meditative and unnerving. The result is a blend of ambient soundscapes reminiscent of William Basinski's Disintegration Loops and the chopped'n'screwed production style of DJ Screw.
Tracks like La Ronda y el Sonidero and Vinilos Trasnacionales initially evoke the signature cumbia shuffle and twanging synth melody, but Beatriz's additions of tape hiss, reverb, and melodic warping quickly subvert these familiar elements. The result is a soundscape that feels more like nightmare fairground music than traditional Latin American dance.
Beatriz's approach is not merely about slowing down the tempo; it's an exercise in highlighting the strangeness of the present moment. By stretching out individual sounds, she reveals the dissonance between notes and creates a sense of discomfort. This is the opposite of background meditative ambience, where slowness and subtlety are used to induce relaxation.
Instead, on Desaceleradas, Beatriz performs a remarkable feat by demonstrating how slowing down music can contain just as much dread and discomfort as chaos. The album's use of industrial distortion, cacophonous reverb, and dissonant melodies creates a sense of unease that is both fascinating and unsettling.
By slowing down the fast-paced rhythms and synth syncopations of cumbia rebajada, Beatriz creates an atmosphere that is both meditative and unnerving. The result is a blend of ambient soundscapes reminiscent of William Basinski's Disintegration Loops and the chopped'n'screwed production style of DJ Screw.
Tracks like La Ronda y el Sonidero and Vinilos Trasnacionales initially evoke the signature cumbia shuffle and twanging synth melody, but Beatriz's additions of tape hiss, reverb, and melodic warping quickly subvert these familiar elements. The result is a soundscape that feels more like nightmare fairground music than traditional Latin American dance.
Beatriz's approach is not merely about slowing down the tempo; it's an exercise in highlighting the strangeness of the present moment. By stretching out individual sounds, she reveals the dissonance between notes and creates a sense of discomfort. This is the opposite of background meditative ambience, where slowness and subtlety are used to induce relaxation.
Instead, on Desaceleradas, Beatriz performs a remarkable feat by demonstrating how slowing down music can contain just as much dread and discomfort as chaos. The album's use of industrial distortion, cacophonous reverb, and dissonant melodies creates a sense of unease that is both fascinating and unsettling.