Juana Molina : DOGA
In 2004, during the existence of a wildly different music industry landscape, I saw Juana Molina play in a crowded tent on a sweltering day at Coachella, some six or seven hours before Beck would later headline the same stage. Performing alone with an acoustic guitar, the Argentine singer/songwriter was an island of serenity in a sea of chaos and evaporating hydration. At the time her music was frequently described as “folktronica,” much like her then-labelmate Four Tet, merging subtle modular edits with a gently organic textural palette. But on earlier records like Segundo and Tres Cosas, the folk half often registered more immediately, her gorgeous pop compositions registering as unconventional, perhaps, but never cluttered or fussed over.
In the two decades since that sweaty but sheltered moment basking in her dreamlike melodies, Molina’s approach has evolved even if her ethos remains solid. Over time she’s delved deeper into the electronic aspects of her sound, achieving a pulsing new peak with 2017’s strange yet immediate Halo. The process of following up that record proved, if anything, a little too fertile; working with improvisational live sets with keyboardist Odin Schwartz on analog synths, she accumulated hours and hours of material that took years to distill into a digestible product. But what she eventually arrived upon with DOGA, her first new album in eight years, is some of her most warped yet immediate material to date, retaining the element of curious melody that defined her early recordings while enveloping them in hypnotic synth grooves.
The pulse of leadoff track “uno es árbol” throbs with the repetition of early industrial and minimal synth, with effects like warping metal bent around its persistent three-note bassline. She carves out a mesmerizing groove with the bass throb of “la paradoja,” while “desinhumano” tips its rhythm off balance beneath a stunning accumulation of layers, its intricate pieces interlocking in a grander whole. Yet more subdued moments like the star-flecked lullaby “caravanas” and playful “siestas ahí” offer nods to the airier sounds of hear early-oughts recordings.
The richer the arrangements grow in size on DOGA, the more complex and otherworldly the sounds that Molina captures. Live bass and drums lend a satisfying heft to “indignan a un zorzal,” while nimble guitar licks and violin provide an organic contrast to the sinister slink of “intringulado.” The stunning diversity of material that Molina has drawn out of that initial flood of improvisational material isn’t necessarily all that surprising given its foundational wealth, nor is the cohesion for that matter. Yet that DOGA pulls off both, a deep well of inspiration that all feels aesthetically intertwined and impeccably executed, makes it such a triumphant return.
Label: Sonamos
Year: 2025
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