Although the boisterous title carries a playful nod to chaos, Pyramidal Disruption is the product of two artists who have refined their craft over years. They have sifted through the catalog, softened the old urges, and embraced the rhythms and wordplay with a new sense of clarity. There is humor here, certainly, yet these 24 reviews read more like a sober exercise in listening—an honest distillation of the songs, expressed through simple, direct emotion and solid lyrics.
Manolo García and Quimi Portet enjoyed a spontaneous moment together, revisiting songs originally recorded under the banner El Último de la Fila. What emerges is a quieter, more assured mood, a serene joy that respects the soul of each track while guiding it along a fresh, unforced path. The duo avoids flashy production, preferring restraint that allows the songs to speak for themselves. They present a clean, transparent sound that softens the original arrangements, which they now consider unnecessary flourishes. Portet spoke about “relaxing” the tunes, and that intent shows most clearly on Insurrection, which opens the set with a calmer, more atmospheric pulse.
Though the selection spans the band’s entire career, the first three albums carry the heaviest weight in this collection: sixteen tracks and six from Enemigos de lo ajeno (1986). The synths that once lent a playful sheen to Sweet Dreams or My Homeland in My Shoes recede, replaced by more austere textures and unexpected arabesques. The clapping in Aviones platados and the exuberant flamenco guitar in El loco de la calle stand as vivid reminders of the band’s early experimentation and theatrical flair.
Everything feels more focused
That focus comes with the absence of chaotic interruptions. The punk edge softens into elegance, with Portet delivering a smooth, controlled critique of distortion when it serves the song. García’s voice carries a refined timbre, moving away from abruptness toward measured nuance. The reunification with his younger material is exciting, bringing high points such as No me acostumbro, which retains its claustrophobic mood, or I am an accident, with its hint of country and a lean acoustic guitar. There is also the fiery, unguarded moment Sometimes it burns, unafraid to breathe and glow. The originals remain formidable; this project simply reimagines them without pretending they no longer exist or tipping into soft balladry.
Does this album signal the return of El Último de la Fila with full lyrics, or perhaps a redefined identity? It may read as both: a gentle declaration that they no longer identify with the old public memory, and a respectful nod to the past. Even so, the homage to Portet’s longtime friend Sisa—whose album Visca la llibertat offered a wholesome title—looms as a quiet tribute that threads through the work, guiding the overall mood with warmth and recognition.