Album review: "Poderío" by FOKINFROID
In hindsight, it should have come as no surprise that someone who calls themselves Robi Caco online decided to dabble in rock music.
For five years now, FOKINFROID has distinguished himself as a member of the alternative rock/R&B band Los Rarxs alongside members Vento Alejandro and Erre, leaning into his role as the trio’s irascible imp. His lyrics tend to be creative to the point of being Lynchian, or better yet Bronsian (“Voy furioso como Walker en el Lancer”) — his bars zig when you expect a zag, keeping you on your toes but forever curious about where he’s taking the narrative of his verses. Sometimes it’s nowhere; he’s here for a good time, not a long time. But other times, when you get a clear idea of his intent, you feel obligated to run it back and listen again, this time appreciating the hidden order in the chaos. There’s no better example than his part in Los Rarxs’ terrific “Guitarra,” where he arguably dropped the best verse of the album, ramping up the similes in his rhymes to rousing levels.
FROID’s newest project, Poderío, opens with the post-punk/new wave jam “El Pavía.” It’s an offbeat track that traffics in surreal imagery (a mustachioed baby roaming the halls of a hospital wielding a knife) to tell the irreverent tale of his nativity. It’s not his first foray into a rock-tinged sound, though. On his previous EP, Joaquín y los Cuchillos, he deftly channeled numerous outside influences on tracks “Foreplay,” “La Colta de tu Pai,” and “Reptîl.” That willingness to experiment and step out of his lane — and successfully — is part of what made Joaquín one of the best Latin rap EPs of the year.
Other tracks in Poderío hew closer to the vibe of Los Rarxs, but considering how successful it’s been there that’s not a complaint. “Pierdete X Casa” is a flirty serenade ready-made to dedicate to your crush, assuming she doesn't mind a little spice in the sauce (“Tan pronto a él tú lo exportes, por favor llama pa’ inspeccionar ese baúl de transporte”.) “Anarchy 99” brings out his inner rabble-rouser, with an industrial sound that harkens the kind he explored two years ago in his Furia Juvenil EP, with a dash of the deviance from Hay Mostros en la Cabina.
For fair weather fans, “Memoria Selectiva” might be the most surprising entry. Aside from a verse in the middle, the song is mostly FROID harmonizing the chorus and bridge. He stays true to his character when he does rap — at one point lowkey gloating about how he lied about liking “The Office” in order to get laid — but manages to avoid any whiplash that could occur from switching up styles. FROID has shown off his singing chops before; he collaborated with Labajura on their Radio Islas Remixes mixtape, guesting on “Amazona” and surprising those who took him for purely a rapper.
But if what you’re looking for is something in the more traditional rap lane, you’re covered as well. “Doble Efe” and “Tapre Tao” round out the EP’s offerings, and serve up the kind of hard-edged braggadocio and pugnacious attitude he’s honed since the heady pe-Rarxs days of “STECA BRON.” Here he eases on the storytelling, trading his penchant for lusty narratives in exchange for throwing lyrical body blows to his rivals. An avid MMA fanatic and kickboxing student in real life, FROID raps like a man circling his opponent and jabbing freely, but never coming in for the kill (or K.O. as it were), with the beat’s frenzied tempo egging him on. If there’s one thing that links both his lurid and bellicose output is that he demonstrates in them that he’s a man who likes to play with his food.
Every member of Los Rarxs also has their own solo career: Vento is the rock star from the beachy northwest, and Erre is the kid from Cayey who excels at trap & perreo. FROID finds himself right in the middle of that spectrum; a guy who’s adept at rhymes that are as sharp as the blades he fixates on, and also flies under the radar as a gifted rock vocalist. He’s oscillated between both before in previous ventures, but Poderío feels like someone increasingly comfortable and confident in his particular wheelhouse. And why wouldn’t he, right? After all, he’s Robi Caco.
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