Plastilina Mosh

PLASTILINA MOSH
Hola Chicuelos
EMI International

Alejandro Rosso and Jonáz, the two maniacs who make up Monterrey, Mexico duo Plastilina Mosh, are the DJ world's equivalent of the Mitchell Brothers, crafting sleazy disco-reject swoops and funkified slaps to back some of the most clichéd dance-floor histrionics imaginable—if they were any cheesier, you could melt P. Mosh over rye. But give them credit: they continue to skillfully swerve across the wide-as-the-405 boundaries of DJ-dom, as their latest CD, Hola Chicuelos, shows despite their jejune tendencies. Over the space of an hour on Hola Chicuelos, P. Mosh ventures across the sampling galaxy guided by an anarchistic aesthetic that pours upright bass solos, clamorous rawk gratings and Japanese bizarro-pop over some of the most flighty electronica since Odelay-era Beck. Any semblance of lyrics consist of excerpts stolen from the Amoeba Records bargain bin—chanting prepubescent girls, apoplectic radio announcers, even an entire final-descent speech by an airplane pilot on "Houston"—and what few words Rosso and Jonáz mutter are languid declarations, such as "Let's give a rest to your underwear" on the romantic-in-a-porno-kind-of-way "Magic Fever." But before you tire of their sometimes cloying chords, P. Mosh rushes out "Shake Your Pubis," a beautifully over-the-top Brazilian-flutey jazz blob that mandates groovers to do what the title exclaims, and even "Oxidados," sweaty '60s garage-rock at its freakiest that jumbles like a brawl inside a metal garbage can. Hola Chicuelos bounces off every chintzy dance beat ever thought of, yet manages to stay fabulously resilient in its greatness.