Quiero Club – Nueva America
Mexican bands are very cool. I don’t know why but at the moment Mexican kids look like the coolest in the world. Sure, a lot of the look is an appropriation of Nu-Rave but it damn well works. I can find very little out about Quiero Club outside of the fact that they are from Mexico. Maybe that’s enough. They don’t look especially cool – 2 thin ladies and blokes that wouldn’t look out of place in The Magic Numbers. But as soon as you press play you’re transported to the night-club at the end of the universe.
‘It’s All About Dundun’ is not without similarities to Corey Hart’s ‘Sunglasses At Night’ but along with the pop funk there is odd free jazz sax parping at the end to make you reassess. ‘Minutos de Aire’ has an incredibly nagging guitar part, it’s close to Euro cheese but something about it keeps it catchy without arriving at annoying. Not that it sounds like ‘Young Folks’ but it’s that sort of vibe. A lover or hater. Whatever I’m expecting the next track confounds me. The title track (subtitled ‘Himno Nacional’) gets closest to the Mexico I might expect but filtered through Saint Etienne.
It’s not a perfect album, ‘Fin de Semana sin Fin’ gets a bit too close to Una Paloma Blanca. Maybe is a bit of a drag, too slow without any real emotion. But a couple of make weights don’t stop the fun, there are no shockers and soon enough another killer like ‘The Flow’ appears to wiggle all over your brain (or “The flow is coming down the spine” as it’s put). ‘Showtime’ is tailor made for a full English remake for Girls Aloud (could do with being a couple of notches more bangin’ too). Actually give it to The Saturdays and they can keep some sort of career going. ‘51’ is all spaceman vocals and repetitive beats and you’d swear it was French, ‘Le Meurte de Ziggy’ sounds like the Disney electrical parade tune.
‘Darwin Mustard’ (WTF?) is the box of frogs its title suggests – a Madonna a-like verse with a tropical isle chorus into an Intastella meets Giorgio Moroder downtown middle eight. This could eat the charts. Then closing track ‘Breathing’ is a cloud of Electro Twee for 2 minutes before guitar that Neil Young would be proud of shoots it’s dirty load across the sweet female vocal. This is a magical Pop album and if you need an antidote to the world-in-crisis this is it – but it’s even quirky enough to satisfy the NME.
Please visit Indie Dad’s own site i blame the parents records