GutterPutter

Hesse Kassel is perhaps one of the very best names to come out of Latin America. While the nueva escena chilena saw the eponymous country of Chile be a hotspot of artists who sought to flip indie trends into their unique spin, Hesse Kassel already possesses a peculiarity to have just about enough differences to present an alternative path for diversion. Their debut La Brea tackles themes of sexual frustration and internalised reactionary views through post-punk instrumentation, jazzy technical playing, and varied yet emotive vocal delivery. It is a triumph to say the least since its release only last year and the band had since then seen a larger cut in attention through opening for larger names like Chappel Roan in the Lollapalooza Chile this year in March.

For this year, Hasse Kassel’s musical development is marked by a bid in perfecting the punk noise that they have acquainted themselves with. Frontman Renatto Olivares released his solo debut Agua Raras in January which, similar to his main band’s comparisons with Black Country, New Road, is akin to Geordie Greep although Olivares’s style would remind listeners more of Betcover on the energetic side and Radiohead’s ‘Jigsaw Falling Into Place’ on the mellower end. Another small project called Cicuta, with Olivares and the main band’s bassist Matthew Hoppers, released a single called ‘Nupical’ which sought to replicate the spasmic dance-punk of Death from Above 1975. It’s half-bad although compared to the other projects and outputs, it feels too similar to its source material to the point of being derivative without other subtleties to make it stand out. Whatever the case, the experiences help to mold an anticipated sophomore record – Morir Saltando.

Morir Saltando still carries the basic characteristics that makes Hesse Kassel familiar be it its talk-singing, frantically jazzy playing, and a kind of energy that postulates a kind of rage. The kind of rage that is aimed at society over the failures of young men to assume traditional gender roles and the world that’s different from their parents’ and grandparent’s. The kind of rage that is further hammered home by its snares and punky chants. 

This is what ‘Pornomiseria’ had carried through but the subtleties grew more apparent in its progression. The song structure toys with right-wing emotive reasoning in its lyricism that withers as the chorus of “actualícense” is swamped into a primal chant as though in a football match. The distillation from post-punk rage to jazz-like mediation paves the way then to a call for love. There’s a vitality found within the song that is not willing to pull the brakes under any capacity. It finds itself to be more dynamic in how it expresses its themes and feelings which makes for a gripping intro. And at a length of 15 minutes, its multiple parts give off avenues for engagement over the urgency of the emotions be it the screaming half-way through or the hypnotic guitar riff in the final third of the song. It’s the opening which leaves you in tune with the rest of the record.

‘No Me Puedo Relajar’ continues to build on the subtleties through coming off more as a post-hardcore song than it does post-punk. If anything, it’s more inspired by Fugazi and At the Drive-In than the Windmill Scene which highlights Hesse Kassel’s strong use of subgenres to illustrate an intended mood. Here, the emphasis is on the destructive nature of nationalism and the unhealthy expectations placed on the new generation to build on a united legacy even if it leads to endemic anxieties or unending wars. It makes for a perfect diversion away from ‘Pornomiseria’ by substituting sarcasm with sincerity, from right-wing satire to right-wing consequence.

‘El Reflejo’ and ‘Mariposa’ have diverging structures with the former opting for a more mellow direction that’s akin to Bossa Nova that explodes in the second half. Meanwhile, the latter contain intertwining guitars and bombastic drumming that’s wholly unrelenting and had halted to resigned acceptance halfway through. However, they converge on the same theme which is being the victim of the end of the world. ‘El Reflejo’ conveys the despair of the friends noticing the plummeting birth rate within Chile. The third verse implies that the addressee had committed suicide over the hopelessness of living in the country and the conclusion thus proves more bitter than sweet. ‘Mariposa’ however questions the value of art in its ability to save or even preserve the dignity of life in the face of nationalism being able to appropriate anything to its advantage. The hopes and good intent get cast aside in favour of what’s needed for the state to thrive.

‘Sancho Plaigo’ and ‘Tulpa’ act as the closers of Morir Saltando and they both are the most interpersonal in their themes. While they still exhibit the vitality that’s shown throughout the album, they also display a kind of vulnerability that seeks to reclaim itself from any further appropriations. ‘Sancho Plaigo’ saw its guitars screech and the percussion come off as atrial as the focus is on reclaiming diversity from discrimination by owning up to the label of being an “Chileno feo” all the while the song structure leaves no room for rest. The scream and consequent collapse in order around the final third beckons a revolution to liberate all from oppression. It is freedom from physical judgement which feels apt contextually in light of the looksmaxxing phenomenon. Killer looks can kill a practitioner and you may find liberty in making peace with your body, warts and all, as long as you don’t find yourself too dissociated with it.

‘Tulpa’ serves as the final song which lacks any social or political subtext that runs throughout the record. At best, it is subliminal in highlighting the unattainability of the female muse to those whose mindset is vying for a break away from being a “chud.” With the instrumental turning towards a more samba-like characteristic, the vocals prove earnestly melodramatic which is fitting for the textures and when the bulk of the lyrics died out after the first half, the turn to post-rock viscerality feels hollow without a female accompaniment. All that’s left is just a burning memory, but you are able to find a way to move on amid the guitar feedback.

Morir Saltando is a masterclass of a sophomore record that feels more substantiated in its effort than La Brea. Its general sound diverges further away from the baseline comparison with Black Country, New Road as it instead etched towards a blend of greater improvisation, more politically/socially charged lyrics, and wholesale embrace of punk. Relenting in its pursuit, restless in its energy, and demanding in its theses make for a tour-de-force. There might be blotches in its similarity with black midi or King Crimson, but the fervour is so potent that it can drive you to a riot. Fans of post-punk, post-rock, or jazz rock will find this to be a gemstone worth preserving.

4.8/5