Released on Kompakt, but drawing more attention to Aguayo's own Cómeme label, Ay Ay Ay marks not only the difinitive emergence of a sound, but more so the emergence of an universal empathy that undermines the obvious.
Mmmm. So. Having finished your first year of big school is an epic event. (I just finished my first year of big school.) Having finished studying art in an institution for a year is an epic event. There's a fundamental clash and all kinds of messy frissures, when art is revolution and the revolution won't be a revolution if it is televised. The system is a consequence... wait, not the matrix - all systems are consequential. Events, discernable patterns, the point, the aim, the goal: the process. The System. We function in systems. Clubs are systems. He killed the system. I really just wish he would have sex with me...
For anything to really grow it first needs to die. Like a mauled cat... someone needed to shoot it in the face. No one shot anything.
Matias Aguayo has birthed a tan, writhing heartbeat with a thousand eyes and so many sinuous muscles curling back around themselves in serene self-stimulation. First of all, its still techno. Second of all, forget about techno, it has no place here. After more than ten years of making, DJing and dancing to dance music, Aguayo's understanding of the forms, codes and syntax of techno have become so profound as to become subjective... where subjectivety is necessarily universal. With its rolling rhythms, that distinctive vocal layering and loose hipped mania, Ay Ay Ay suggests a techno that has transcended. Moving beyond the bassline, moving beyond synthesised melodies and moving beyond the deepseated, essentialy humane, desire for a Dance Floor Banger, Aguayo's brand of dance music has slipped below the system so as to cradle its glutinous mass tenderly.
At the same time, it means nothing go get your short skirt.
Us people of the South are a complex people... Joburg Oh Nine (2010 minus fruition) knows. Colonial, post-colonial, neo-colonial, hip hop, ghetto tech, Oprah, world music from France and Saartjie Bartman. Today including black gold, blood diamonds, AIDS and Somalian pirates... Pirates. The South was big, and the North thought it was small, and there we go with the diaspora. Which means, when Matias takes his bumbumbox to the public space of the disenfranchised reenfranchised masses, there is some meaning (revolution) in how the system appropriates and is appropriated. Let the writhing queues of the Joburg CBD's fried chicken outlets spew onto an open square in tank tops with stereos cracking the infamous four/four high into dusty dagga-y air.
Matias Aguayo is eating commodification the way he ate minimal. His dark hands are taught and his strong thighs are blurred with motivated action and he is eating it all in one clean pink swallow. I really, really wish he would just have sex with me.
"Rollerskate" feels on the ears how rollerskating feels on the calves. "Desde Rusia" feels on the ears how Matias feels between the legs. No. "Desde Rusia" reeks of TV on the Radio - and, then, Matthew Dear, who is the other sexiest man in the universe. Loose drums slither aimless on the ground like ruined grass matts and bull's tail whips, each fine strand of collision slicing directly through and toward nothing. Moaned over bass gooses hidden nipples; the paranoia is exqusite. We know the rule by now - if you are afraid, and that fear works to wet you, it is techno music. The rising sighs are evangelical, then, and the puritanical religions that govern guilt as they govern trade are ecstatic. Everything here is fervour; clammy hands that accumulate dirt and dirt that streaks pale dark faces. This is what i mean about shooting the cat. Someone definitely had to die. Like Jesus. So that we could eat too.
We eat: non-GM mangoes and melons. Flesh that is as firm as it is yielding. The album's title track, "Ay Ay Ay", is targetted directly at virgins. The steadily, minutely building bass doowop sets right angles to the skew walls of breath and breathy whistling that ebb and bubble and drown underneath. The bassline plunges to the centre, where we are as warmly complicit as we are naive. Surely, everything moist and young and pure is stretching pliantly toward ripeness. Mangoes and melons are being penetrated - are being devoured. Sticky orange green juice diverts around the angle of collar bones, diluting and reanimating the sunscreen and sweat dried there. Waking up in Ay Ay Ay is the same as going to sleep, and neither are certain and neither are complete.
Matias Aguayo - Ay Ay Ay (MediaFire)
Matias Aguayo - Desde Rusia (MediaFire)
Matias Aguayo - XLR8R mix (right click, save as)
Tracklisting:
01. Grupo Valledopar "Hechizería" (Discos de Colección Monterrey)
02. Matías Aguayo "Riddimx 100" (Cómeme)
03. Ku Nice "Cabo Verde"
04. 2 DJs and a Keyboard Player "Sekele" (Static Plastic)
05. DJ Rodrigo "Pista Dembow 1" (Discos Discos)
06. Matías Aguayo "Sheika Tambori" (Cómeme)
07. Los Sobby Boxers "El Llanto de la Tortuga) (Latin)
08. Matías Aguayo "Ritmo Tres" (Kompakt)
09. Chantal "Chanta Uno" (Cómeme)
10. Secession "Touch" (Intercord)
11. Mr. Fingers "On My Way" (MCA)
12. Matías Aguayo "Desde Rusia" (Kompakt)
13. Omega y su Mambo Violento "Pa Perrear" (Allegro)
14. DJ Terrivel "O Bum Bum" / Matías Aguayo "Bombacha Veloz" (Cómeme)
15. Diegors "Dembow ABC" (Cómeme)
16. Primo de Andres "La Megatonica" (Mi Amigo de la Lagunilla)
Posts
