Teatro Holofrénico
πρόλογος
10
πρόλογος cannot be pigeonholed into any category. Through the use of grunts, shrieks, growls, beautiful falsettos, vibratos, and a wide sonic palette, Julián Bonequi evokes unfiltered visceral feelings that are as individual as they’re universal.
At densidad20.25 we have a policy that forbids the same album to be featured twice, and another one that mandates for reviews to be as recent as possible or else they don’t get published. I don’t see any useful purpose to this rule, and we certainly don’t get anything out of it; in fact, this practice has resulted in some albums worth talking about being left behind, since they have exceeded this imaginary deadline. Things are about to change, though, as rules are meant to be broken once they become obstacles instead of guidelines.
In celebration of this newfound freedom, I propose a little experiment: Take any song from this album and invite people to listen to it in its entirety solely based on that one track. More than likely, their experience won’t be anything like they imagined. This is what happens when an artist breaks free from stylistic shackles to create entirely from within. You may say that this applies to every artist, and to be fair, you wouldn’t be wrong; however, we all can agree that most artists are bound by certain aesthetic standards.
πρόλογος (Prólogo) cannot be pigeonholed into any category in the sense that none of the songs have any thread linking them, other than the fact that Julian Bonequi -the sole mastermind behind the Teatro Holofrénico project- is using his voice in nonconventional ways throughout the entire album (except on one track). Through the omission of spoken language, and limiting his vocal delivery to glossolalic grunts, shrieks, growls, beautiful falsettos and vibratos, Bonequi evokes unfiltered visceral feelings that are as individual as they’re universal. He plays with extremes to show us that there’s an emotional core worth exploring in every level of the aesthetic spectrum.
Julián is primarily a drummer, but he also delves into electroacoustic endeavors and orchestral work, and it is thanks to this background that he is able to provide a wide sonic range, as idiosyncratic as his vocal delivery. Opener “Zero” puts us under a spell thanks to its beautiful droning cello -courtesy of Mabe Fratti- but the true catalyst is the vocal interplay: Fratti’s high register versus Bonequi’s intervallic delivery. What he is able to convey with the trembling of his voice is extremely touching; it’s both painful and joyful. It’s pure emotion.
“Ballad for Nothing” is pretty close to ritual music with its repetitive, throbbing pulse accompanied by Bonequi’s more known approach to vocalization, just as in “A body defeated by Anarchy”, in which we’re also treated to Julian’s signature amplified drum sound and cathartic playing style. The overtones and feedback emanating from every kick, drum roll, and snare hit make Bonequi sound like a full band; it is incredibly powerful, especially when he begins to franticly pound on the drums in the last half of the track. In contrast, “Hay una Línea” slowly hovers, careful to not touch the ground due to its fragility; there’s no rhythm, only a drone coming from an altered toy harp, and Julián singing on his highest register yet, finally enunciating words.
Of course, no person is an island, and there are lapses of familiarity that come through: “Hay una línea” will remind us of Meredith Monk, and the freakout at the end of “A body…” sounds like Sepultura going apeshit. As individual as glossolalia can be, this practice is far from being inherent to Bonequi alone, but it’s important to understand that, while everyone can shout and shriek, we will all do it differently if it's done spontaneously, without a stylistic script. Formality -no matter how subtle- will always carry a certain level of replication. I mean, how many Hope Sandovals we ended up with in the form of Lana del Rey or Marissa Nadler imitators? Or how many incestuous pseudo-post-rock bands were born our of sheer copying the same EITS and GY!BE dynamics?
Let's get back to our proposed experiment: Would you have thought that you’d be getting a full chaotic assault like “Before the Words” after initially hearing “Only Lovers Left Alive”? Or that you would get something like “Hay una Línea” if you were only exposed to “Brain Overheats”? That’s the genius of Prólogo: its defiance and the way it subverts expectations. Is the album perfect? Will it please everybody? Maybe not, but perfection and complacence should never be the goal; instead, we should aim for freedom and individuality, as only through them is that we may find uniqueness.
