It seems that luck — or someone with a very bad streak — has it that Anni B Sweet and Lori Meyers release albums on the same day, both centered on breakups and largely shaped by 60s psychedelia. The approaches, however, are quite different. ‘Alegría’, the Málaga-born artist’s first solo album in seven years, based in Madrid, is titled ‘Alegría’ and sounds bright and zen. It draws out the positives from the ordeal she has endured and leans more on Brazilian music for inspiration.
Ana Fabiola says that “if another trailer rolls over him like that, he won’t tell it.” Without giving many details, she explained: “I came from another relationship, which wasn’t so bad. Honestly, it was a fairly good relationship in Granada. But after that everything else was chaos.” And yet, ‘Alegría’ is an album that, without shying away from conflict or the lows, revels in the joy of living and is able to convey to the listener all that positivity, while drawing more inspiration from Brazilian music.
The record opens by appealing to “the best thing that’s happened to you in life” with ‘Adiós con alegría’. The truth is that the two main singles are among the best Anni B Sweet has ever delivered. In this opener, the singer talks about a “distorted past,” and perhaps for that reason she distorts the pronunciation of the word “de” (of), leaving one of the most amusing moments in her discography. There could be no more random word to underline.
If the arrangements of this track are already exultant, even Augusto Algueró, Juan Carlos Calderón or Rafael Trabucchelli might have dropped by for ‘No le encuentro la gracia’. One of those songs written from pain and disillusionment (“ya no le encuentro la gracia a perder por ti la cabeza”), but with so much color added by a meticulous production in which great care has been taken, it manages to convey the opposite of what it was conceived for.
A message of peace and the desire to find solutions are the protagonists of ‘Nada grave’, while ‘Amor’ presents a very wild final minute marked by humming, nods to 60s film scores and, ultimately, the Motown of the Supremes.
The second half of the album is somewhat less thrilling, because ‘Llévame al sur’ (“I’ve lost my bearings”) remains a joke that loses its charm with repeated listens; and ‘Un buen trato’ is too short. Nor do the collaborations bring much beyond anecdote, with Santiago Auserón and Tulsa appearing on ‘Todo está bien’ and ‘En mi olvido’, respectively. The latter, if it stands out for anything, is for its nod to ‘Twin Peaks’. For that reason and for its aim of not staying silent. With this record, Anni B Sweet says she has emerged as a new artist.
However, Ana Fabiola López Rodríguez knows how to bid farewell well with another of her meticulous productions alongside her colleague James Bagshaw. There are explicit references to Miguel Ríos, Juan Perro, the Zombies and Lole y Manuel, who, let us remember, appear on the album, but the character that weighs the most is Sara Montiel. From ‘Fumando espero’ to ‘Bailando espero’, Anni B Sweet shows you how to cure heartbreak with music.
