Looking back, the viral Tiny Desk session that Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso manifested in October of 2024 may have been more of a unicorn than we initially realized. Admirably brief, exultant from beginning to end, enhanced by a sympathetic brass section and female coros from the U.S., the showcase transformed the Argentine duo into one of Latin music’s most glamorous international stars. Presumably, this was also the specific moment in time when the internal wiring of the whole thing started to overheat.
Last year’s follow-up EP, Papota, turned their wicked sense of humor into an ongoing comedy skit, complete with songs about impostors and a number of public shenanigans meant to outrage the bourgeoisie. The boys’ much-anticipated second album, Free Spirits, offers very little that is new and not a single track to match the visionary brilliance of their mega-hit “El Único.” Its hyperactive songs are soaked in a mood that would have been unthinkable two years ago: a permanent sense of paranoia and dissatisfaction.
The good news? The musicianship is as top-notch as always. Years toiling in the Buenos Aires club circuit certainly paid off — Paco and Ca7riel boast a refined knowledge of Brazilian jazz, hip-hop, and funk. The sax intro on “Ha Ha” feels like an homage to the emotional comforts of Eighties pop, while “Vida Loca” reaffirms their infatuation with silky bossa grooves. Forget the annoying baby talk of “Goo Goo Ga Ga” for a moment, and you’re left with a lovely lounge confection of sweet hyperpop (and Jack Black.) Their collaboration with Sting on “Hasta Jesús Tuvo Un Mal Día” earns points for being one of the most eccentric duets of the decade. And time stands still when the bratty electro-funk of “No Me Sirve Más” morphs into a wide-eyed glimpse of Cuban cha cha chá. No wonder they’re big in Japan.
It’s the message underneath the layers of aural candy chaos that feels a bit slipshod. The album’s overriding credo is that the perks of wealth and celebrity are wildly overrated. Sleeping with a never ending gallery of supermodels is… well, exhausting, and confusion and sadness reign supreme when you have millions in the bank and people masturbate to your image (thank you for that tidbit, Paco.) “Es que me gustan mucho los culos,” he admits in a wounded tone over lilting acoustic guitar; it would be so much better to be poor, and a weed smoking hippie. Their gift for profound existential reveals may be overestimated.
“Nobody invents anything new/Everything has already been done,” Paco and Ca7riel declare on the synthetic mantra chant that opens the album. Nothing could be further from the truth. There are thousands of brilliant Latin acts who are still plying their trade in relative obscurity, unspoiled by the trappings of fame. For any of them, the invention of a wondrous new genre may be just one song away.
