Voltaje Raizal

A rhizome is an underground plant stem; recent scientific investigation has shown it to be a secret communications pathway for entire ecosystems. A cool concept, then, for a cool Colombian duo, whose debut sprouts and bursts and secretes all manner of rhythms and rootsy concoctions over its nine tracks. Partners Diego Manrique, director of avant-garde cumbia orchestra Niño Pueblo, and Edgar Marún, director of ethno-Afrobeat ensemble Dorado Kandua, are already faces in Bogotá’s thriving alternative psychedelic scene. Their tropical futurism is tricky to decode but I hear ethnic chants, EDM pulses, computer games, noirish film music, sounds from nature, some very twisted cumbia, all of it so mashed and meshed that it creates something fresh.

Apparently – according to the promo material – somewhere in there are ‘traditional scales from Mali’s Bambara ethnic group, and the Ghanian palm wine guitar interpreted by a Caribbean millo flute,’ and who’s to argue? On Voltaje Raizal, you can hear whatever you want, except words. Instrumentals are rarely as entertainingly eclectic as this. Somehow, amid all the bleeping and industrial clamour, a fecund funkiness comes through. The overall effect is of undertaking a subterranean sonic adventure; it’s damp and dark and hot down there.