![]() ![]() Her father, meanwhile, was a ham radio operator, which might explain her fascination for the molten squeal of shape-shifting analog frequencies. According to family lore, as a baby, Dalt would crawl around seeking the source of the sound. ![]() Her mother played guitar and collected records that a salesman would deliver to the house she was also an amateur audiophile, prone to tucking speakers into hidden corners in the living room. “The record was born from a deep necessity to return to the melodies and rhythms that I grew up with.”ĭalt, 41, grew up in Pereira, Colombia, a mid-sized city about 200 miles west of Bogotá. “Salsa, merengue, bolero, mambo-they really started to grow on me during the pandemic,” Dalt says. It may be the most conceptually ambitious in her catalog, as well as the most immediately gratifying: She has largely abandoned the experimental, alchemical sounds of her recent past in favor of the acoustic music of her childhood. Where Dalt’s previous albums have sunk progressively deeper into electronic murk, ¡Ay! is bathed in a soft pastel light. “It’s not super explicit, like, ‘I’m an alien.’” But it’s clear that something is off about Preta. “I’ve always liked things like Tarkovsky, where you have to construct the story from the information you’ve been given,” she tells me. You wouldn’t necessarily know that Preta is a visitor from another dimension. She and Lázaro stand on rocky cliffs, their backs to the sea, wind whipping through their hair. To bring me up to speed, she pulls up a rough cut of the “No tiempo” video, which they shot on another part of the island in February. A body of water-it’s the first time she’s seen that. “She’s experiencing all these sensations for the first time,” Dalt explains. ![]() As a disembodied consciousness, Preta, the album’s extraterrestrial protagonist-played by Dalt in the videos-has no previous knowledge of linear time, gravity, or boundaries of any sort. ¡Ay! opens up new imaginative dimensions in her world-building. In the distance, the island’s cliffs pitch steeply into the Mediterranean. The view, though, is as bucolic as the name of the surrounding neighborhood: Costa de la Calma, a secluded enclave of vacation homes. Every few seconds, a cackle erupts from the room in response to the vignettes, which are unsettling, absurd, and slyly funny in a way you can’t quite put your finger on.ĭalt’s rental apartment for the week gives off a real ’80s time-share vibe, with faded orange awnings draped over brutalist angles and curves. In another shot, she looks quizzically at him and runs a svelte black mannequin’s hand through her hair. “Time? I can’t speak about time,” replies Dalt, a cryptic expression flashing across her face. “How long was I gone?” asks Lázaro, his voice soft and mellifluous. Onscreen, Dalt and Lázaro huddle conspiratorially in a limestone cave, murmuring lines in a mixture of Spanish and English. The room is dim as Dalt, filmmaker Aina Climent, and percussionist Alex Lázaro watch unedited scenes from last night’s shoot. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |