Juana Molina set aside the budding musical career she'd pursued since childhood to become one of TV's most acclaimed comedians in her native Argentina. Her original muse may have been denied for seven years, but never forgotten; indeed, Molina has managed something of an unexpected musical delight here. Her breathy, gentle vocals haunt unusual song structures and the album's quiet, playful production sense like some restless ghost, wandering a sonic landscape that's as electro as it is Latin. That pan-cultural, less-is-more sense is rare on any collection, let alone on a sophomore album (Rara was released in her native country in `96) cobbled together between club gigs while living in Los Angeles. Driven by an insistent, plaintive guitar and producer/collaborator Alejandro Franov's delicate, bubbling synth riffs, Molina's unusually structured songs often seem to float in on a breeze and escape on a daydream. She's claimed the album was recorded in moments near the edge of sleep, and that stream-of-unconscious tack variously involves rhythmic choruses of barking dogs, ticking watches, and rainforest soundscapes--most so delicately rendered they sometimes seem an auditory illusion--seasoned with impossibly plastic washes of synth and carried by Molina's sweetly somnambulistic vocals. More impressive, Molina's songwriting sense seems as inscrutably subconscious. A rare, true musical adventure from first track to last. --Jerry McCulley
Review by Chris Nickson
America doesn't have a lock on all the off-kilter singer/songwriters. Take a listen to the very individual Argentine Juana Molina. On her second album, she explores electronic and acoustic textures, treading through them like rooms in an empty house while inspecting details and corners. She's equally comfortable with detuned synths (as on "Medlong") or acoustic guitar ("El Zorzal"), but whatever she uses, her music keeps taking the path less traveled. Her unusual, minimal touches transport lovely melodies into different dimensions. Molina is like a Latin Lisa Germano: both make small, intimate albums and think outside the box. But originality should be treasured, especially when it's wrapped in glistening little melodies. Molina can have an almost childlike simplicity at times in the way her voice glides between the blips and bloops, although her sensuality comes to the surface in other moments. She utilizes minimal arrangements and the production might sound more like work from home than the big recording studio, but this naivete suits the songs. There's an irresistible charm about both this disc and Molina's approach. Even if you don't speak Spanish, you'll still be smiling.
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