I like albums sung in languages I don’t understand – they force me to focus on different elements than usual. That’s also the case with Carmina Alegría by the project Yo. Carmina Alegría is a conceptual album that moves between neoclassical, ambient–new age, and organic post-rock, shaping a reflective and emotional journey.
The album is a tribute to the artist’s late grandmother, who passed away this year in Valencia, Spain. She sang when she was young – the radio even wanted to turn her into a star – but life took a different course. Now her grandson is giving her an album: for her, about her.
The opening song Desaparacer shows how varied this journey will be – it begins softly, with an almost indie-rock guitar, then gradually shifts into a hard-rock vibe with a heavy, forceful riff. The next track Carmina Alegria lasts nearly eight minutes; through spoken word, it guides the listener into a soundscape that is partly melancholic but more gently euphoric, ending with a surprisingly uplifting solo.
The highlight of the first half for me is Coagulo de un instante, featuring a beautifully natural-sounding acoustic guitar that creates a warm, ambient impression. Midway through, atmospheric vocals rise and lend the track a subtle ritualistic quality, while the guitar continues its delicate, reverb-washed riff. The ending builds into a lightly tribal atmosphere – a truly stunning piece.
Volver al aire surprises with its opening synths and almost classical, operatic vocal line, accompanying a gentle, pensive track. Despite – or perhaps because of – its echoes of the past, it feels remarkably fresh.
The second half begins with the energetic Siempre (la mano en el fuego), where rhythmic guitar meets prominent percussion and various acoustic instruments, creating a folk-like, almost medieval atmosphere – the track has a strong cinematic feel.
The longest piece on the album is Los muertos siempre son verdad. It opens with a slow acoustic riff before unfolding into a full-band rock sound that, like the similarly lengthy Carmina Alegría, carries a pleasing, softly melancholic, contemplative atmosphere. Instruments and guitars build toward an euphoric, very beautiful ending. The final track — aside from a roughly one-minute bonus piece featuring raw emotional vocals and piano — again leans on spoken word before blooming into an almost operatic melody that shapes a truly unique atmosphere.
Carmina Alegría is an intimate, genre-blending album that moves gracefully between acoustic warmth, cinematic folk, post-rock neoclassical depth, and ambient reflection. It functions as both a personal tribute and an emotional journey, marked by strong expressive arrangements and an atmosphere that is both cohesive and richly varied.
This album was discovered via Submit Hub
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