Musically brilliant, satirically brilliant and conceptually, you guessed it, BRILLIANT. Ca7riel and Paco Amoroso ride the wave of their summertime success on NPR’s Tiny Desk with new album, PAPOTA, Argentine slang that refers to someone on steroids.
Ranked in the top 10 performances of the 2024 series by NPR themselves, live songs from their Tiny Desk performance feature on the album alongside four new tracks. The Argentinian duo’s second offering proves that they’re well worth the hype, whilst also offering a clever reflection on their sudden rise to fame.
Coming from relative anonymity outside of Latin America, 2024 was a massive year for Ca7riel and Paco; the duo’s collaboration with Nathy Peluso on ‘TODO ROTO’, their ELECTRIC Tiny Desk performance, shortly before selling out the majority of their European tour. The group are set to perform some major events this year, including Lollapalooza, Estereo Picnic, and Coachella.
The only constant in their music is experimentation – they bounce effortlessly from genre to genre, showing their prowess as singers, rappers, guitarists and producers across a crazy and eclectic fusion of genres – rock, jazz, rap, funk, hip hop, trap, electropop, pop latino, R&B, you name it.
The album opens with ‘IMPOSTER’, a catchy but raw reflection on the duo’s recent overnight success and their worries for living up to the high bar they’ve set themselves. The accompanying music video – set immediately after their Tiny Desk performance – sees the two riding a bus back home, seeing passengers’ eyes glued to their screens, all watching their performance. Classic feelings of self-doubt that come after huge success makes the group question whether they deserve it all. They address the
irrational doubts and beliefs that come with imposter syndrome, singing “Y yo no sé ni cantar / Y yo no sé ni rapear” (And I don’t even know how to sing / And I don’t even know how to rap), ironic after clearly showing that they’re amazing at both. It’s playful in the sense that we’re left unsure whether they’re reflecting on and calling out their own irrationality, or perhaps if on some level, they truly doubt their talent. There is a clear ambivalence in feeling fortunate for their success but also strangled by the pressure of the expectations that come with it, expressed in a way that remains true to their jazz funk-experimental style.
The short film accompanying the album creates a narrative that explores the anxieties arising from their sudden rise to stardom. The group are approached by vampiric music producer, Gymbaland, who promises to help them win a ‘Latin Chaddy’ and make them the biggest “Latin stars in the United States”. The film splices together part of the music video from ‘IMPOSTOR’ before entering the producers’ office; a suffocating display of vapid, hyper-masculine shirtless men working out, chicken wings in one hand, dumbbells in the other. The Mike Myers-esque Gymbaland swivels around in his retro Mr. Evil desk chair, caressing a chicken. He suggests that they consult Chad GPT, a computerised mewing AI persona, for their next big idea. It recommends that they learn English, go to the gym, consume steroids, do a collection with Bershka, compose a hit using the words ‘glowup’, ‘vibecheck’ and a hashtag and eat only chicken. “Les quedó claro? (Was that clear?)”, “Yes”, they answer emphatically in English.
The two poke fun at the soulless, commercialised and uniform demands of the industry, where appearance matters just as much as the songs put out. They also address a commonality seen amongst many Latin artists who gain international success - “Y quieren que aprendamos inglés, oh shit / Y quieren que vayamos al gym, cliché” (They want us to learn English, oh shit / They want us go to the gym, cliché). Anglicismos (the use of English words) are very common in Latin America - there is a perceived pressure on many Spanish-speaking artists to release music in English, or to at least incorporate it into their songs. The stance differs between artists, with Bad Bunny being very vocal about having no intention to release music in English, whilst other successful artists like Rosalía have done so.
The film blends into their next track, ‘#TETAS’. The satirical bordering on ridiculous parody critiques the obsession with vanity, aesthetics, social media and plastic surgery. Obviated further in the music video, the duo satirise the perceived need to surgically and chemically modify ourselves in order to fit into a box that is, in itself, inherently fabricated. There is double irony in that in trying to make a song deliberately sh*t, it is still very catchy.
Cato and Paco dance gleefully along to the chorus like a 90s boyband; the song, video and creative direction, are all a product of the AI persona, Chad GPT. Paco himself compares the song to the Backstreet Boys in a recent interview, saying “there's something in liking something you think you shouldn’t; in the end, pop always wins you over”. They explore the difficulties that come with fame, and indeed, with identity itself, in the digital age - “Si quieres ser alguien, no puedes ser tú, tienes que ser alguien que no seas tú / Y si quieres ser tú, no vas a ser nadie” (If you wanna be someone, you can’t be you, you gotta be someone, other than you / And if you wanna be you, you won’t be anybody) The compromise of identity is not just explored in an ironic sense, but also as a real worry of the group.
We then move on to ‘RE FORRO’, by which point in the narrative, the duo have gone their separate ways. The groups’ fictional split ends up furthering their careers, gaining them garnering media attention and gaining them more views online; their later emotional reconciliation costs them their fictitious ‘Latin Chaddy’. “El sueño lo cumplí, pero a qué costo? Ayer no me quería y hoy me odio” (I achieved my dream, but at what cost? Yesterday I didn’t love myself, today I hate myself)
This, along with the last of their new releases, ‘EL DÍA DEL AMIGO’, asserts that the two plan to remain authentic to themselves and that they have every intention of staying firmly together, singing “Qué sería de mi sin amigos? (Where would I be without my friends?). The two have been friends since they were six years old, meeting on the first day of primary school and staying together ever since.
All in all, the album cleverly parodies the demands of the industry that values formulaic trend-hopping and superficiality over creativity, individuality and authenticity. The group attack several expectations head on, solidifying their commitment both to their own creative agency and to each other as besties, rather than giving in to pressure to conform to commercialised success. They have shown in a very pivotal moment of their careers that they won’t be moulded by the whims of the industry in order to be successful, instead forging their own path. Their plan definitely seems to be working so far.
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