When the object became visible and was confirmed to not be a private or commercial aircraft it became apparent that this craft was unlike anything they had seen before. The coast guard and US Navy got prepared for a possible attack on the sunny shores of California, preparing their anti-aircraft weapons, Navy ships, and Air force after getting word of a single or multiple aircraft heading for the coast. Nobody could have ever possibly guessed what they were about to see in a million years.
Becoming common, people took to the streets to see what was going on and to witness if it was another false alarm. Just months after the attack on Pearl Harbor when the US declared war on Japan the sirens blared in Southern California on February 24th, 1942 at around 10:30pm. At its best, Support Alien Invasion picks up that cry, wordlessly-a rain dance calling down the force that will wash all borders away.The Battle Of LA The Battle Of LA-Aliens Attack California 1942 In its joyful patchwork of identities, the song invoked the kind of communal experience that can’t be restricted by lines on a map. It’s not what she sings, but how she sings it: She intones her lines with an emotion so rapturous it feels almost dangerous there’s a real sense of things spilling over, of a pleasure that can’t be contained. Its shuffling triplet drums are cut from the same cloth, but there, he turned to a South African singer named Mujaji the Rain, a fixture on Johannesburg’s feminist and queer scene, whose woozily ecstatic vocals in English and Zulu-a supplication to the clouds, rain dance as erotic metaphor-make the song unusual. One example of where he might have gone with this material can be found in his own single “ Rain,” from late last year. “Between the Risings,” a gloomy drone cut, doesn’t add much to the overall picture, and by album’s end, Aguayo seems to run out of things that can be expressed with drums alone. Whether in protest or celebration, the album could have benefited from some vocal tracks. Aguayo can be playful, too: The Errorsmith-like “Laisse-moi parler” is sculpted around a bass synth, halfway between a growl and a sigh, that writhes like an outlandish Claymation creation. Tonally, it’s a little like stepping from brilliant sunlight into a shuttered room: Your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, but minuscule variations of gray soon become clear.
In the “The Fold,” the opening song, interwoven drums and queasy, carousel-like synth streaks establish the unsettling mood that permeates the album, drawing you deep into his imagined borderland. “Insurgentes” is slow and menacing, made all the more ominous by the fact that there’s so little to it-just a side-winding, minor-key synth melody in place of drums, just steady, time-keeping handclaps, as though the song’s titular guerrillas were counting down to a pre-dawn assault. On “We Have Seen Another World,” the bass synth blares like a warship’s warning siren. Glowering rave stabs give “2019” the menacing air of European hardstyle over hard-charging polyrhythms that flout the hegemony of the four-to-the-floor groove. His drum programming is as slinky as ever, but there’s a newfound force to it his drums could double as battering rams. Aguayo’s productions have frequently flashed a sly sense of humor, but the mood here is driven, focused, heads-down. But the seriousness of the subject matter is plainly audible in the music’s steely tone. This is Aguayo’s first all-instrumental album, which might be surprising, given its political subtext. Support Alien Invasion is a co-release between Cómeme and Belgium’s Crammed Discs, which seems fitting since 1981, Crammed has blurred the lines between the European avant-garde and its allies around the globe. What began as a pan-Latin concern has gradually expanded to encompass artists from Johannesburg, Bucharest, and beyond.
Just as important as his stylistic innovations is what he’s accomplished with his label Cómeme (Spanish for “eat me”), which he and cofounder Avril Ceballos have spent a decade developing into a platform for alternative dance music from the margins of the global club scene. He had a minor hit in 2008 with “Minimal,” a playful rebuke of minimal techno’s tick-tock tedium on 2009’s Ay Ay Ay and 2013’s The Visitor he focused largely on his own voice, layering chants and beatboxed rhythms into supple Afro-Latin grooves. For the past 14 years, as a solo artist, he has gradually moved away from house and techno, at least as they’re typically understood, toward a more expansive-and inclusive-vision. Years ago, Aguayo was a member of Closer Musik, a duo whose winsome minimalism helped define the Kompakt label’s pop-ambient era.
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