Crespi Drum Syndicate
Colada Talk
Cinnamon Disc
Jonathan Trujillo (a.k.a. Jonny from Space) and Pablo Arrangoiz (a.k.a. El Gusano a.k.a. DJ Fitness) may not care for this comparison, but Colada Talk, the latest album from their Crespi Drum Syndicate project, has a definite STOMP vibe. (Yes, the same STOMP that took their synchronized sweeping and trashcan-bashing to Broadway and theaters all around the globe.) Maybe it’s all the metallic bangs, clangs, plinks and plonks, but the Miami duo have comfortably settled into a kind of junkyard-band aesthetic, populating the record with mutant rhythms and a thrilling sense of barely corralled chaos.
It’s an unorthodox formula, to be sure, but even in its weirdest moments, Colada Talk feels unmistakably alive, its percussive acrobatics tapping into the legacy of early no wave and the avant-funk of Liquid Liquid in particular. What Crespi Drum Syndicate are making isn’t dance music in the modern sense of the term, but it’s rife with movement, a quality that’s only enhanced by the duo’s frequent nods to the assorted street sounds of Latin America. Those nods may be subtle—Trujillo and Arrangoiz aren’t terribly interested in the brightly colored tropicalismo that has unfortunately become a kind of cultural shorthand for all things Latin—but their musical language nonetheless reflects the years they’ve spent absorbing the lurching gait of cumbia, the freewheeling energy of merengue and the decidedly non-linear beat patterns that soundtrack the lives of pretty much everyone who logs serious time in South Florida.
Humidity, of course, is also a key component of the Florida experience, and Colada Talk has it in droves. For all their rhythmic prowess, Crespi Drum Syndicate do seem to gravitate toward sludgy synths and scuzzy textures, often glazing even their most propulsive cuts with a bit of swampy goo. Fidelity obsessives might recoil at that, but the muck ultimately enhances the record’s hypnotic allure. With Colada Talk, Trujillo and Arrangoiz are flying their freak flags, feverishly banging their drums and inviting everyone in earshot to join their wild ride. And unlike most parties in Miami, this one has no dress code at the door.