C.O.R. - Caer, Olvidar, Repetir LP

There is a phenomenon in nature known as the ant mill. It happens when a group of army ants splits from the main foraging party and loses track of their guiding pheromone trail.  As a result, they begin to follow each other in a continuously rotating circle that frequently sees the participants march until they die from exhaustion.
This literal death spiral forms the allegorical centre of Caer, Olvidar, Repeti for a capitalist system that crushes sprit, stifles aspiration, and drains creativity.  Hailing from Valencia, C.O.R.’s debut album is one grounded in the peak years of 1980s’ UK crust.  The darkly quivering bass lines and spryly limber percussion steadfastly hold the centre, allowing the guitar to weave its own lithe path, segueing from the brightly jagged to the skittishly dancing.
Meanwhile, the robustly semi-shouted vocals deploy an anarchist framing to examine the increasingly suffocating reach of surveillance capitalism and state control.  As they sweep from the bouncing agitation of Broken Arrows (Riesgo De Accidente Nuclear) to the solemn restraint of Soldados (Soldiers), and then from the intricately darting Cree In Ti (Believe In Yourself) to the defiantly melancholic El Empujón (The Push), it proves a deeply evocative journey.