(5020)
The Grammy-nominated Argentine–Spanish singer moves between snarling bombast, acoustic yearning and lavish salsa in her eclectic second album

Her conceptual and eclectic second album, Grasa, could rectify that. Yo-yoing between aching introspection and teeth-gritted swagger, Peluso is a sort of Jekyll and Hyde here, battling between herself and her pop star persona. The artistic uncertainty couched in the 50s Italo-balladry of opener Corleone gets crushed under the rubbery horns of next track Aprender a Amar and its snarling rejection of being underestimated.

Escaleras de Metal’s forlorn Auto-Tuned heartbreak is roughly stamped out by Todo Roto’s steel-toed trap beats and its opening lyric, translating to: “Get up bitch, there’s no time / If it hurts, band-aid.” And El Día Que Perdí Mi Juventud, its acoustic yearning haunted by a peripheral cymbal that simmers like a near-forgotten memory, is swept away by the lavish salsa and humorous narrative of La Presa.

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