When a band produces such a bilstering debut as Molotov did in 1997 with ¿Donde jugaran las niñas?, it’s tough to imagine how anything after could surpass it.
Six years later, Dance and Dense Denso arrives to become the sound of a skeptic eating his words.
Sure, there was an album between that debut and Dance and Dense Denso. But Apocalypshit suffered from trying to stay within the lines of what happened before.
Yes, Apocalypshit was every bit as angry and confrontational as its predecessor, but it lacked an intangible charm that reached out and grabbed listeners would normally hate metal-rap.
Dance and Dense Denso reclaims that charm and goes for your fucking throat.
Of course, it’s risky writing a review for a hip-hop album in a language you don’t understand. Rap draws its power as much from rhythm as it does from words.
But when you’re faced with chants as addictive as the title track or “No Me Da Mi Navidad”, who the hell cares?
Never mind the inflammatory chorus of “Frijolero”, or the objectifying language of “Changuich A La Chichona” — Molotov has written some the funkiest shit of the year.
“Here We Kum” starts off with a robotic riff that hinges of a bizarre break as a hook. “Noko” concludes with a series of fake endings which effectively slows down the album’s break-neck momentum.
On some tracks, Molotov is more of a punk band with throat-busting vocals on “Queremos Pastel” and “Nostradamus Mucho”. On everything else, the quartet has just about nailed the essential chorus.
Even though language is a barrier for this review, it’s not tough to channel the satire of “E Charles White”, an Anglo-named song in which the band adopts the voices of a series of Mexican stereotypes.
Language is no barrier on the controversial — and Grammy-nominated — “Frijolero”. “Don’t call me gringo, you fucking beaner/Stay on your side of the goddamn river,” the band sings in one voice. “No me degas beaner, Mr. Puñatero/Te sacare un susto por racista y culero,” they respond in another.
In the past three years, rap-metal has pretty much been diluted by bands pummelling the same damn power chords over and over.
Molotov gives some genuine rage back to the genre. Listen to the maniacal laugh at the end of the title track, and you know these guys aren’t messing around.
Powerful hooks, addictive choruses, a heart behind the music — Molotov could be playing huapango and listeners would dig it.
Instead, Dance and Dense Denso shows rap-metal can be saved from itself and transcend borders.