kind words for luna anfibia by lucía chamorro!

At times during Luna Anfibia, Lucía Chamorro reverse-engineers the process of composition. Instead of shaping the sounds themselves, there is a sense of tinkering with the mind and ears used to receive them: clogging the ear canals with water so that guitar loops and birdsong arrive muffled, goading the listener toward a conspiratorial paranoia that hears symbiotic collusion between the sound of chewing and the tinkle of chimes, a rupturing of stereo perception that places radio broadcasts at the left and right simultaneously. I don’t know how she manages this switch in emphasis. Perhaps it’s the way she forces me to wrestle with the familiar, tampering with everyday sound (running water, open-mouthed chewing, tapped kitchen ceramics) to create a certain shortcoming in my powers of recognition. These compositions almost resemble memories from my own day-to-day experiences, but not quite. Something is off. The lights are dimmer. The walls bend slightly. In a bid to protect those sounds that pad the perimeter of my life with the comfort of familiar sensations, I turn inward for answers instead. What am I doing differently to dislodge this experience of the commonplace…

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the kindness comes from attn: magazine.