As in the birth of a cow in a stable or in the buzz of an electric fence on the mountain, a bewildering but nice tension beats under the seemingly quiet resounding topography of a Veces Ciclón. The concession to the rural is not gratuitous: Oscar Vilariño (Vale Tudo, Devalo, Musel) wants to talk about the changing seasons (Primavera), the everyday (Servilletas), the obsessive distortion of the habitual (Siesta). Far from stopping there, he crowns it all and uses his omnipresent guitar and his shy inbound and outbound voice as a vehicle for a passenger who is more a feeling than an idea: The buzz of emotions that, because they are cooked over a slow heat, are devastating, and the effects they can cause.
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