Clan Caimán sound like a nu-cumbia group who are nearing the end of playing a three day birthday party for a Mexican drug lord who got them high off his own supply, but who are now struggling to keep the last frazzled party goers entertained.
Apart from a couple of more recognisable - cheek to cheek rather than gyratory, dance numbers prompted by some celebratory gunshots, the tempo is largely low and barbecue friendly.
To conserve energy and preserve blistered fingers the notes are few and far between, yet rather than lacking anything the breathing space encourages a minimally induced hypnotic state whilst evoking centuries of South American musical history and even finding time for a knowing wink to modern club culture and Barcelona’s once proud mestizo scene.
If you remember how compelling Khruangbin sounded before they became dull and popular then you’ll love this.
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