Galician nights hide secrets, one of them being the Santa Compaña. A procession of tormented souls in white tunics, melting candles, and invisible footsteps that smell of death, which has been traversing the forests for centuries as a silent warning, a rural myth that devours anyone who dares to cross its path. Now imagine that this procession decides to arm itself with amplifiers pushed to their limit, sharp basslines, and torrents of distortion. The result is the universe of Triángulo de Amor Bizarro. They have been making songs like pagan rituals for over two decades, where Galician mysticism and the noise wildest collide to transform into the modern echo of that eternal funeral march.
Since 2004, with their already famous “Moqueta,” the band from Boiro (A Coruña) has been an relentless steamroller of indie rock, post-punk, shoegaze, and whatever else comes their way, if it bothers them. The now trio formed by Rodrigo, Isa, and Rafa release a new album, “Mi Catedral,” where they delve into their sound with their characteristic defiant attitude, and where the influences that have marked their trajectory dilute to sound like nothing less than themselves. But before diving into their most recent release, let’s review their, until now, immaculate discography.
Triángulo de Amor Bizarro (2007)
Like a bull in a china shop, the relentless rhythm of “El Himno de la Bala” enters, and you’re already kidnapped. There couldn’t be a better entry point to both the album and the band. Half an hour of noise pop that sticks like chewing gum and lays out some of their trademarks. Dark humor (pitch black), electric outbursts (“Mal como efecto de mala voluntad”), generational anthems (“El fantasma de la transición”), and even letting a little light in amidst the ruckus (“Estrella azul de España”). Carlos Hernández’s production rounds out a debut that is pure tension and makes it clear they won’t be a mere seasonal product.
Remember: Llevar navaja siempre es conveniente.
Año Santo (2010)
Like any good sequel, here we have a double or nothing. More visceral, noisier, more furious, more vicious. Paco Loco takes the helm in a second installment that surprises by opting for greater homogeneity than their debut, with a suffocating and direct proposal in 28 minutes with hardly any rest. “De la monarquía a la criptocracia” is a perfect pop single that misleads us; from there, we enter an unbreathable territory without pause, with an almost tribal cadence in pieces like “El radar al servicio de los magos.” “Castlevania IV” serves as a breather in the form of a tribute to Suicide, and we have an epic finale with a final trio of songs that perfectly craft a second part for true TAB fans.
Remember: Si insistes, mejor te cortas las venas. Después yo lo limpio.
Victoria Mística (2013)
Robo tu tiempo, robo tu tiempo… Pure attitude to start their third album and disorient with an evolution of their sound towards the exploration of noise and textures. Here, the singles don’t stand out as much in favor of the whole, yet we have “Estrellas Místicas” delving into their pop vein. Otherwise, another noise steamroller that navigates between unleashed fury and a melodic flair they seek to refine until they find the exact measure. Isa gains presence in the vocals, and the lyrics delve into social themes with their ironic tone through longer and more developed songs. The search for the perfect balance between shoegaze and pop would have to wait a little longer.
Remember: Guarda el veneno y sonríe, hostia.
Salve Discordia (2016)
The big leap. Now, TAB gather all the virtues that appeared in their previous albums and deliver a perfect record in all their explorations. “Baila Sumeria,” “Desmadre Estigio,” “Barca quemada,” “O Salve Eris”… choose whichever you like, all anthems in their own style, from reggae to the wildest noise rock, here you have it all, TAB in a nutshell. The production reaches an ideal point of equilibrium that serves the songs without obscuring them or depriving them of oxygen, and the lyrical imagination expands with cryptic lyrics as sharp as knives. It’s their most pop album and where perhaps the references are most noticeable (elements of The Cure, elements of New Order, elements of Jesus & Mary Chain, elements of My Bloody Valentine). If you want to start with the band, this is your place.
Remember: Habría votado a la derecha por ti.
Triángulo de Amor Bizarro (2020)
This new self-titled album not only filled the shoes of its predecessor but also enriched them. If we previously said that in Salve Discordia the references were more or less clear, here we have an album that only sounds like Triángulo de Amor Bizarro. The lyrics touch on more introspective themes, their already perfected alchemy of pop, shoegaze, and noise stays with us, and the best compositions they have ever made appear. From the extreme and dark imagery presented in “Ruptura,” they develop a narrative that ranges from the dub of “No eres tú,” the traditional anthem “Vigilantes del espejo,” the tremendous “Fukushima” and “ASMR para ti,” the powerful tracks “Canción de la fama” and “Acosadores” with Ariana from Los Punsetes, to that emotional ending with “Cura mi corazón”… Industrial, dark, extreme, ethereal. It has it all.
Remember: Fuiste mucho más importante para mí. Que toda la costa de Galicia
SED (2023)
If the challenge after Salve Discordia was difficult, the task of following up Triángulo de Amor Bizarro (2020) was practically impossible. But since this isn’t a competition, SED arrived in 2023. A complex album to categorize and analyze within their continuity. The synthpop opening of “Estrella Solitaria” looks directly at New Order and achieves another pop bullseye for their repertoire, joined by “La Espectadora,” “Canción de muerte del pez dorado,” “La carretera,” and “La condena” as the most emotional pieces on the album with Isa on vocals. On the other hand, we have a more rebellious streak in “Cómprate un yate,” “Huele a colonia chispas,” or “Estrella Antivida” with Rodrigo as the protagonist. It’s the slight imbalance between these two facets that makes the album a bit more irregular than its predecessors, but they still remain on the throne.
Remember: Tú eres el hielo que queda. Y nosotras el sol que se levanta
Mi Catedral (2024)
We arrive at the present moment with their recently released album, and from the first notes, we notice that something has changed. At a time when the band could have found a mold to churn out albums like a churrería, they choose to show themselves as the restless spirits they’ve always been, delivering an album that incorporates some of what was found in SED but in a much more refined way.
The opening with “SMT en el Palacio Real” is an overwhelming and sinister start; “Diosas adolescentes,” “Mi Catedral,” and “Sacrificio” have automatically been born as anthems; “En la Corte de E.” opens a path towards more complex developments; “Matar a un Rey” and its kraut litany, and “Pat a trenca” providing stylistic shifts that fit them like a glove… The overall feeling conveyed by this collection of songs hits where SED stumbled a bit, and that is precisely in the simplest yet most difficult thing to achieve: the memorability of its songs.
It’s admirable that after more than 20 years in their career, they manage to produce a feeling with this new work that balances between “it’s the most pop they’ve ever done” and “it’s the most experimental they’ve ever done.” That’s where its charm lies, in that perpetual dance, even within the song itself, between more accessible and rougher areas. Isa and Rodrigo recently said in an interview that they would hate for their songs to be called “pretty”; well, this is the album where they most successfully achieve that bewilderment which requires the listener to be flexible with their longest album to date, a cathedral of noise that promises to open an exciting new era for the band.
Remember: Voy a hacer lo que pueda. Pero nada más. La muerte solo es un gesto.