On the one hand, the new album by Lucrecia Dalt would seem to come at us out of nowhere – which suits the tale it tells of an alien visitor to, of all happy landings, Mallorca. “Tearing through my glandular data gates / I bring you the view from no-when,” it begins (but in Spanish, this is a quote from the fantastic English translation provided on the flipside of the lyric sheet). A sentimental organ lays down a tonic chord, with wide vibrato. Burbling electronic sounds flit about the edges. A clarinet warmly hums along. Words jump the bar line, meandering through an unknown verse structure.
On the other hand, this is an album of crisp clave rhythms, slow grooves, delightful melodic turns… not the stuff of outside, avant-garde tests to our ears or patience. Is space as easy going, as seductive a place as Mallorca? (Maybe that’s what Sun Ra was trying to tell us.) Or perhaps landing anywhere unfamiliar – the view from no-when – is itself seductive. “Disorder is a measure of warmth,” say…
