Caballo Rojo

Caballo Rojo ("red horse") is the second album by Perlita, a band from Cádiz, Spain, once described by a British critic as "a Hot Chip fronted by Freddy Mercury". For the follow-up to their 2016 debut Cangrejo Yeti ("yeti crab"), the threesome have come up with a titanic piece that, mood-wise, jumps around and gallops between pop, flashes of Andalusian folkloric music, drum machines, Japanese voices, synths and verses by Spanish poet and Nobel Prize laureate Juan Ramón Jiménez, among many other things.

Perlita are based part-time between Puerto de Santa María, Cádiz, and the Madrid borough of Lavapiés. That in itself could constitute a music genre, but it's not on Wikipedia yet. Their music speaks many languages, some of them invented. There's something in it that echoes the south – the south of the Andalusian psychedelic rock bands of yore, but also of the typical Cádiz brand of humour, of the famous carnival, and of the Northwest-African radio waves reaching the beaches of the city from across the Gulf of Cádiz.

Perlita are the brothers Pedro and Esteban Perles, and Calde Ramírez. The three of them played in several bands that were, or still are, legends on the Spanish indie scene, such as Ledatres and Bigott, indie producer Paco Loco's band, as well as Spain based American folk singer Josh Rouse's backing band. When they got together to form Perlita, they decided to explore other worlds – worlds where synths and drum machines rule, yet with plenty room for wild percussion and marvellously poppy melodies. The new direction became clear on their first effort Cangrejo Yeti, and they went on a seemingly never-ending tour that took them all the way to Japan, where Osaka based imprint Flake Records decided to release the album.

A year later they went back into the studio in Puerto de Santa María, to record this Caballo Rojo. Electronic pop made with an open mind, with a special fondness of the poetry in details, and with a production that is constantly morphing throughout the record – from a sophisticated accompaniment gently rocking some precious verses to a raw and forceful sound slinging almost Dada-like shouts, like a poet at a rave hollering about the dunes. Which makes all the more sense once you're lucky enough to witness one of their crushing live gigs.

There are no pink horses in hell…