From the serpentine beauty of Chile comes this impressive sonic surprise, already gathering rave reviews from the global prog community (which seemingly enjoys sharing the latest buzz) and surely destined to a most successful future. Why, may you ask? At first listen, this veteran prog musicologist rarely gets to sit back in amazement and wonder in silence at first and later out loud, what the hell is this? I am never prone to cussing or even occasionally shaking my head in bewilderment, but Chercan has certainly qualified to bowl me over! Led by a merciless drummer /percussionist in Rodrigo Gonzalez Mera and a robust bass guitar held by Simon Catalan, while top- notch guitarist Roberto Faundez (My nickname would be 'Frippo') and Matias Bahamondes wielding a wonderfully neurotic saxophone, both add all the fiery molten lava soloing one could dream of in the best of nightmares. Vocalist Martin Pena sings like a man possessed and provides added guitar mania. Guests include a string trio.
Exploding like the Chaiten volcano in the Southern Andes, "La Culpa" is a monstrous slap in the face, a hysterically magnificent torrent of Magma-esque fury (not necessarily the band but the molten fire) that settles into sudden introspection, where the fervent glow of Martin's voice soothes the scalding pyre of sound. But it's only a brief reprieve, as the bulldozer guitar barrage reignites into turbo charged vehemence. It's entirely the band's fault, tectonic and strategic as they are wanting to disturb, shock and perhaps even provoke. Martin screams as if the devil was chasing his tail.
Will our chilenos quiet down now, well it's hard to predict, as the speed at which they shuffle from vigor to smoothness on "Caen Las Hojas Blancas" is unpredictably dizzying, 'Frippo' Faundez manhandles his fretboard with impunity verging on hysteria, as if barking at Matias's brass reptile. Hints of experimental (mostly mental) King Crimson definitely come to mind, the Mel Collins-era in particular, the saxophone utterly devastating! I need to check my heart rate as I feel like a F1 engine overheating. Perhaps a week's rest in Vina del Mar might help. "Kalimba" kindly keeps the pace a tad more sedate but only a tease, for as soon as that nasty twitching guitar starts throttling up, the tempo increases once again, egged on by Martin's pleading vocals that exude pain, suffering and revolt. "Desolacion" is where the string trio settles the sorrow factor with a serene moment of reflection on the previous devastation. From: https://www.progarchives.com/album.asp?id=90724
