GutterPutter

Mexico is a nation that always find itself to be at the forefront of folk music. Since its proliferation in popular music starting in the 1920s, a lot of the country’s culturally specified subgenres like their own variant of the danceable son, the orchestral mariachi, & the politically charged Canto nuevo have found its way into popular culture. Although that certain showcase enables people outside of Latin America to be aware of it, very few musicians get a spotlight in the world stage. People are aware of Speedy Gonzales as the big example of representation for Mexico, but it’s rare for someone like Pedro Infante to get a shout-out for what he’s done.

Maybe that might see a small change through the up-&-coming singer-songwriter Silvana Estrada; a cuatro specialist from Xalapa, Veracruz whose lifelong musical influences is rooted in jazz & chamber instrumentation. Garnering attention from the Rolling Stone & the New York Times from the hype surrounding Marchita, the album is made to revolve around the process of loneliness & heartbreak. Most of the time, these tropes were played so often, & yet so frequently related to a listener’s lives, that they would vary drastically in quality as it depends on how ‘authentic’ it is to their very experience – a big emphasis being on their feelings. For Estrada, the thesis lies in the pathos, how she picks herself up from a love life that had recently withered. In fact, Marchita is Spanish for ‘withered’ which is a befitting name for the breakup album.

Accompanied by her playing of the cuatro with a tinge of violins, percussion, a keyboard, & a trumpet, the sound in the album is marked not by extravaganza or classiness, but rather by a certain sense of loss. ‘La Corriente’ sees Estrada calling out for her love who, in a metaphoric comparison to the sea, have left her to venture out to new opportunities. With the fingerpicked style on the cuatro & the harmonisation of the violin to match with her vocal performance, the final product is more bittersweet than it is rebellious or driven. The title track sees a small crescendo built over her anger at devoting her love to someone who sees no interest in committing themselves to her. The escalating violins is a nice mixing decision to symbolise her pains at the breakup. By contrast, ‘Más O Menos Antes’ takes on a simple rhythm with a straightforward chord progression, putting focus around the coming of age that derives from a former lover.

It might not be the most dynamic in terms with song structure. Estrada doesn’t stray too far away from the use of violins to show her sentimentality & however beautiful it sounds in ‘Te Guardo’ or back in ‘Marchita’, its usage can come off as being a bit shallow in how common it’s been used. When she does deviate from that formula even in the slightest, the initial sadness from having a broken heart begins to change into a state of being triumphant, a willingness to move on from the past to not let an ex-lover get a hold of her life. ‘Sabré Olvidar’ is a great example & while other tracks like ‘Tristeza’ or ‘Carta’ has their share of upbeat textures, the lyricism shines through once you even do a bit of Google Translate with it. It’s not the most accurate, but the call-back to previous songs somehow works even if it’s not at the beginning or the end of the album:

What I really like about this outro is through the repetition of ‘someone’ & the anaphora of ‘and’ which adds not only some weight to her defiance, it’s also alike to mocking an excuse around why her ex isn’t as committed to the relationship as her. The second person pronoun is accusatory, but it’s through the sea imagery that’s found previously in ‘La Corriente’ which adds a metatextual middle finger for the lack of enthusiasm in the love. The metaphor of the artillery & her decision to leave it marks both her ending in keeping the memory her ex & her final victory by making amends with what had happened. Finally, the use of the chorus to mark the end of the song is by no means glorious, but it’s a nuanced way to mark her willingness to carve a future on her own. Poetic, yet not too flowery I would say for this track.

There are other highlights within the album like the minimal ‘Casa’ which contains a chamber jazz crescendo as Estrada comes to term with the reality that love doesn’t last forever with a nice touch of horns & vibrato of the violins to leave us to wonder at the reality. ‘Ser De Ti’ is a bit of a weak link as however pleasant the backing bass is in the track, the plea for her love to come back adds diversity to the record’s depiction of loneliness at the cost of cohesiveness in defying the need for reunion. Her vocal performance might be lovely, but the lyrical content verges on bit too much into the typical ballad songs you’d listen to from the 80s to carry on the wise approach on what it means to be single. Finally, the outro in ‘La Enfermedad Del Siglo’ makes for a solemn end with a trumpet solo backed by an organ. Without the lyrical content to carry it, all that’s left is a feeling that’s comparable to what it’s like after you just broke up with someone.

Marchita might not be that groundbreaking album that’ll put Mexico up as a melting pot for singer-songwriters. However, it’s a heartfelt project that explores the many sides of being heartbroken a Veracruz native whose heart is in tune with music her whole life. If there’s one constant that I think is a worthwhile praise all the way through, it’s in her vocal performance. She might not hit the high notes all the time, but there’s a certain theatricality to it that is befitting to each song on the album all the while it’s pleasing to the ears.