Like The Olympics and the Fifa World Cup, 31-year-old Electropop Chilean Javiera Mena releases an album quadrannually, which indicidentally is a good measuring stick for progress and maturity. The title of her third record Otra Era is Spanish for "Other Era" and as suggestively exciting as it sounds, the presumptive connotations associated with the phrase can also be anxiously worrying, especially considering there was nothing wrong with the previous epoch found on the entertaining and addictive sophomore LP Mena.

 

On Mena she had more control as she became both the main musician and co-producer of her own album for the first time. She expanded upon the little sparkles of eighties electronic pop influenced by Erasure, Aha (Al Siguiente Nivel) Visage and The Human League as well as new romance ballads and new wave found on her adolescent-themed debut Esquemas Juveniles (Youth Schemes). Sure, it disregarded the more folk-based singer-songwriter intimate moments with Mena caressing her acoustic guitar (Sol De Invierno) and crooning introspective lonesome emotions in a morning voice at a sad piano (Está en Tus Manos). Yet the benefit of the electro-pop domination and folk absense was that she could avoid zig-zagged genre-hopping and propel deep into one style of music, whilst still passionately proclaiming her romantic insecurities and heartache. 

 

Mena was still charmingly retro but this time her flux capacitor was set for early to mid 1990s, with a helping hand from alternative dance producer Kelley Polar, who give her music a UK-garage string section (think Rhythm is Rhythm) and bassline beats, exemplified by the pulsating and multi-layered single Luz De Piedra de Luna (Moonstone Light).

 

With her long-standing producer Cristan Heyne still on board for the next era, we should rightfully expect the same production process on her third album. Unfortunately, the dance-pop elements that added subtle energy to the electronics on Mena have grown out of proportion and swallowed the personality, the personal lyrics and nostalgic references. The new thirty-something era she is entering is more about fun and sex (also noticably by the semi-nude anime-character cover) rather than love and seriousness found on previous works. Yet it comes at a price. Dance floor filler Espada (Sword) trades intregal substance for sexual euphemisms and auto-tuned mediocrity and will frustrate many indie and experimental preferenced Mena fans, that is if the have enough patience to reach to the climax of the LP. The first three tracks: Los Olores de Tu Alma, Otra Era and Esa Fuerza successfully merge themselves into one indistinctive mess of eurodance aesthetics and shamefully threaten to camoflague her unique traits.

 

The only special jewel on the album is La Joya, simply because it's reminescent of when she was the keyboard maestro who loved experimenting with quirky spacey effects and compositions that sound like You Can Call Me Al on caffeine. It also thankfully comes packaged with the charmingly quirky Mena-style music video of randomly edited OTT computer-generated special effects and themes of alter ego multiplicity. As her musical style was also accompanied by hispanic-accented contralto, it distinguished itself independently from the electro pop produced in the anglophone countries.

 

For her fans' sake, let's hope she climbs backs into the DeLorean and heads back to a retro fusion that she excelled at before her she loses her indie fan base. MTH

 

Best Tracks:  La Joya, Pide and Quédate un Ratito Más