A Closer Listen
Cumbia rebajada was born by accident in the 1990s, when Monterrey DJ Gabriel Dueñez’s turntable overheated at a party and began to play cumbria music at half-speed. Instead of clearing the floor, the strange new music rejuvenated those in attendance; soon after that, the artist began circulating a series of mixtapes that celebrated this disorienting experience. Enter Debit (Delia Beatriz), who grew up listening to this music in Monterrey and who now resides in New York. Taking Dueñez’ cassettes as a starting point – although these tapes themselves are constructed from older music – she has now produced what amounts to a mix tape of a mix tape of a mix tape, an oblique commentary on culture and time.
At times, Desaceleradas leans on hauntological timbres, which seems appropriate given both the ancestral reverence of the region and the fact that many of the original performers have passed on. They speak here through snippets that those familiar with the original music may be able to identify, but one can also imagine them whispering through EMF, using abraded grooves and fraying tapes as spiritual conduits. If one revives the voices of the dead, are the dead alive again? Or have they always been present?
The tapes have been decelerated so that they can be examined from a new angle, appreciated in a different way. It is hard to imagine dancing to Debit’s music, save perhaps as a ghost, disembodied, unmoored from time. Some of Dueñez’ music is replayed on accordion, while other segments are “re-voiced” through synth. One might call such recordings paraphrases, although their communal impact is greater than that of any individual piece. Yes, there is a single, but we can’t imagine it being played before midnight. For the first time on the album, clear voices cut through the static. In “Soindo Deuflez” the bass begins to reverberate; one can intuit what the original dancers were responding to without having the urge to respond in turn.
When synth dissolves into a dark cloud of drone on “El Puenta del papa,” one thinks of the ways in which history is often erased as those in power co-opt the narrative. From rewritten textbooks to the disappeared, people and stories vanish, leaving a palimpsest. Debit flips the script, amplifying the voice of what has been effaced even as she adds new layers. “Rebajadas” seems to refer to the discounted, but the fact that this piece exists suggests the opposite, a spectral choir seeming to sing through the hiss. In re-excavating the past, Debut repurposes some of the music’s original power, viewing it through her own distinctive lens. (Richard Allen)
Mon Nov 03 00:01:50 GMT 2025