Album review: "Cachispa" by Sebimor
When they released their debut LP back in 2019, Sebimor was firmly in their lane as Puerto Rico's resident indie psych-rock band. That album, Badtrip, put them on the map with a specific sound that garnered them fans who felt fueled by the acid trip sounds of their music. Songs like "Retrovisor" and "Enciendo" cemented them as a burgeoning force in the scene; someone to keep an eye on as they kept growing. The lineup has shifted since then — Armando López moved on to fellow rock grouping Epilogio — but the energy itself didn't stray much at first.
In 2021 they released Mermelada en Casa Fantasmes, an experimental EP composed of instrumental jam sessions that still toed the line of their previous output. Recorded at the (locally) legendary Casa Fantasmes studios, the project was an opportunity to show off the expanse of what they could achieve sonically; making you feel even without lyrics to follow.
Since then, they've started to color outside of their own lines, making music that can discernibly be considered pop-adjacaent, with "Hay Que Pichar," and the nigh-revolutionary "Despierta Boricua" amongst them. They quickly followed up with the beach punk-tinged twofer of "¡KABUM!" and "Tommy Bahama," which was more than enough to establish that a vibe shift was in process.
It's hard to fault artists for growing out of the shell you discovered them in, and holding it against them can cast doubt on the fealty of your love. Did you like the band and all their promise, or did you just like the sound of when you discovered them? Whatever Sebimor started off as, the question now becomes: what are they now, and how good are they at it?
Thankfully, the answer is promising: the changes Sebimor have experienced have, arguably, only made them a better band. They kicked off 2024 with "Te Fuiste a Lo Crazy," their most commercially-tilted song yet with its party anthem lyrics. It's a song that's tailored to be embraced by Zoomers and young Millennials alike, while also engaging in earnest instrumentals that channel 70s beat rock. The track anchors the first half of Cachispa, their sophomore outing and the project that they're releasing today.
The first half of Cachispa strikes the same vibe as their lead-up singles: catchy, hip-swaying tracks. Along with "Te Fuiste a Lo Crazy," Sebimor dug deep and came up with rock ditties like "Si Me Buscas" and "Ella Me Dijo." Even compared with the more abstract-yet-involved tracks of Badtrip, the hazy flourishes of these songs are a continued improvement of their discography. It's clear they've started to harness the lyricism of the music more, and in that same fashion it's colored the way they produce their songs.
The album's sixth track, "La Brisa," is an instrumental piece with a soothing cadence that counteracts the bitter, resentful energy of its previous track, the anti-capitalist anthem "Tú No Eres." For some reason, I found myself thinking of a river's stream when listening to it, and only after a few spins did I realize why: the music has a similar aura to Gustavo Santaolalla's masterful "Iguazu," which was written as an ode to Argentina's Iguazu River. Beyond that similarity, though, "La Brisa" acts as a palette cleanser of sorts before wading into what the band themselves refer to as the album's B-side.
These last four songs find the group exploring more vulnerable facets of themselves than we've been privy to in a long time, and that's reflected in their musicality as well. "Háblame" and "En Otra Vida" both find the trio employing sounds, chords, and and melodies in ways that they've side-stepped before; not to say that they've avoided sentimentality, but here it's brought to the forefront more than previously manifested.
Without a doubt, "Sin Mi Amor" stands out from all ten tracks due to its bolero origins (plus it features guitarist Oski Thurin on lead vocals for the first time ever.) They do a fantastic job of capturing the essence of that throwback style, even recreating the oldies echo that would typically accompany it. The band has said that the second half of the album is purposefully more melancholic, since it reflects a downward turn post-relationship, and that goes a long way towards explaining the willingness to explore outside their usual boundaries. When you (metaphorically) have nothing to lose, you can play around and see how far your reach goes.
Sebimor shines because, while obviously influenced by other past groups, they're not slavish about mimicking any particular sound (although my ears caught what sounds like a quick tip of the hat to Los Enanitos Verdes in "Tú No Eres".) They've taken those tools and knowledge to create music that suits almost any occasion, which is a big part of what's kept them as fan favorites. With Cachispa, they gift us the best of both worlds: a slice of the kind of songs they know how best to make and everyone loves, plus a peek of what they're capable of and at how good they are at evolving their range.
The kids are alright, and in Sebimor's capable hands the future of Puerto Rican rock still feels as promising as ever.
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