When Monterrey, Mexico’s Plastilina Mosh released Aquamosh in 1998, it was hard not to describe them as a south of the border version of Beck. Their major label debut was as a direct aim at Odelay style mishmash and white-boy rap/hip-hop, yet Juan “Jonas” Gonzalez and Alejandro Rosso presented an unstructured approach that was nothing close to representing the ensuing Rock En Espanol movement. The album wasn’t founded on rock, but on disparate collages of lounge, disco, electronica, and pop. It wasn’t even entirely in Spanish but a multilingual effort sung in French, Japanese, and Spanglish. Aquamosh never reached the critical or commercial success of Odelay but it did chart two international hits, “Nino Bomba” and “Mr. Pmosh”, and the band became the first Latin Alternative act to have their music video on MTV’s rotation.
It’s safe to say Plastilina Mosh represent a more globalized, cosmopolitan approach to music that the likes of Britain’s Cornershop and Canada’s Bran Van 3000 produce on their albums. Plastilina Mosh signed to Astralwerks in 2000, and released Juan Manuel, a little gem of polished electronica. The album, produced by Chris Allison, (Coldplay, Beta Band) and Money Mark (Beastie Boys) was more musically Eurocentric, taking on Plastilina Mosh’s tendencies for experimental pop, lounge, and disco and incorporating deep house, trip-hop, and garage rock. Juan Manuel was ambitious, but a far cry from the spontaneous musical globetrotting found on Aquamosh. If their contribution — a cover of an 1960s Mexican pop song — to the soundtrack to Alfonso Cuaron’s Y Tu Mama Tambien was any indication of Jonas and Rosso’s direction, it’s that they are suffering from a mild case of identity crisis. And it’s apparent on the band’s new album, Hola Chicuelos.
Plastilina Mosh’s new album is an uneven, confounding record. Jonas and Rosso produced the album with help from producer Jason Roberts (Cypress Hill, Control Machete). The album remains honest to the elements that made their previous albums an interesting listen. On Hola Chicuelos, the band primarily plants itself firmly on the pop and dance floor. They bid bye-bye to the Chris Allison electronica of Juan Manuel but keep Money Mark’s fun factor. However, after listening through the 18 (yeah — 18) tracks on Hola Chicuelos, one begins to wonder whether some of the tracks could have been saved as B-sides. Rosso was quoted in a Canadian publication, as saying that the one good thing about their new album was that it is “the one with the least crappy music.” This definitely isn’t crap, but it isn’t their best either.
The album opener, “Cosmic Lelos”, begins with an electro funk stride that boasts declarations (Plastilina has the beat / Plastilina has the cars / Plastilina has the money / Plastilina has the girls) which are normally reserved for the ghetto fabulous rap star. On “Peligroso Pop”, the first single, the album shifts towards a new wave, dance hall synth pop. “Peligroso Pop” is a fun, undeniably catchy, light-hearted Spanglish power pop song. A song directly aimed at Top 40 glory. It’s the antithesis of the direction Chris Allison and Money Mark produced on Juan Manuel. It’s a moment of pop brilliance that is tainted by undercooked tracks like the inconsistent arrangements of “Alo”, or the annoying screaming on “Shake Your Pubis”. In fact, “Shake Your Pubis” sounds great as an instrumental and this is where Plastilina Mosh excels. Their previous albums had some fine, quirky instrumentals (“I’ve Got That Milton Pacheco Kind of Feeling”, “St. Tropez Is Not Far”) by the classically trained Jonas. But on this album, most songs sound forced and under produced.
This must be a subconscious reaction to the polished results Chris Allison and Money Mark gave Juan Manuel. Jonas and Rosso must have felt overtly conscious of not overproducing, so they took the middlemen out and consequently took nearly two years to complete. Yet, when impressive tracks like the sophisticated trip-pop sound of “Houston”, the hypnotic “Celeste” (that truly belongs on the soundtrack to Lost in Translation), the infectious pop-hop on “Enzo” or the fuzzy bass disco of “Pinche Stereo Band”, it’s hard not to ask Plastilina Mosh for just a little more production.