Album Review: Melodia - Diario de Viaje

Man, how in the fuck did I sleep on this for three months?

I’m even Facebook friends with the gawd himself, Federico Durand, but somehow I missed knowing that his project with Japanese musician Tomoyoshi Date, Melodia, released a new album on Christmas Day.

The title, Diario de Viaje, roughly translated means “Travel Diaries,” and throughout the album’s seven tracks it finds the duo slightly more focused than they were on 2013’s Saudes.

The charm of Saudes was how it meandered playfully, with different musical ideas drifting in and out. They still meander on Diario, (at times, quite a bit) but rather than the penchant for and heavy reliance on bells, chimes, field recordings of children playing, and other organic sounds, Durand and Date are favoring acoustic guitars, pianos, and other slight manipulation. It serves as an interesting companion piece to Saudes; if that album evoked the feeling of being outside in a forest, or expansive space on a beautiful day, Dario evokes the feeling of being in a quiet, small apartment at night, with low lighting, drinking tea.

 Saudes created a strange ambiance of wonder and reassurance; with Diario, Durand and Date craft a relaxing calm—not so much contemplative or meditative, but tranquil. It has an improvised feel at times, specifically when the duo switch gears during a specific piece—like on the opening track, “Canción de los pájaros.” The sudden shift in these songs makes them all feel slightly longer than they actually are—or that the album has more than just eight tracks.

I stop short of wanting to refer to parts of this record as “masturbatory music that fails to climax,” but there moments when an idea doesn’t really work, but they continue to test the goodwill of the listener by dragging it out—I’m looking directly at the final portion of “La luz de la tarde” here. The song itself is rather beautiful—a strange, reassuring whisper breezes through piano and guitar—but yet towards the end, quickly, clumsily, and obnoxiously plucked guitar strings are what brings the track to a close, kind of knocking the hustle of the vibe the song had worked pretty hard to set up.

When I had discovered this album online about a week ago—an evening spent dinking around looking up ambient music to possibly listen to—I shared it on Facebook. The brother of a friend of mine commented, saying how much he liked it, and called it “small music.” I’d never heard that term before, but it fits. This is small music. It’s so minimal that at times, it almost doesn’t even exist.

It’s not the most emotionally evocative “small music” listen, and despite the improvised feeling at times, and occasional misfire, Diario de Viaje continues an impressive collaboration between two-likeminded artists.

Diario de Viaje is out now as a compact disc and digital download via Home Normal