for bebé machete, walls are symbolic of constraint. they’re not just a passive entity — they are an active agent of aggression. they box things in, they restraint things, they prevent new things from happening. the name of bebé machete’s album, there is not a metaphor that can contain is instructive then: if walls are symbolic or metaphorical, then metaphors are to be avoided, as they may only constrain.
previously known as xango/suave, even bebé machete’s identity as a songwriter is free from the constraint of a singular name. and this fluidity spans to their music on there is not a metaphor that can contain. let’s try a quick game — go listen to one track from the album (there are some streams below if you haven’t heard it yet) and think of three genre names that you would use to label what you hear. i’ll wait here while you do this little experiment.
go on — i’ll wait. i’ll just be right here.
okay. so i’ll assume/pretend that you actually tried this experiment. what were the three genres that you came up with? “experimental”? “hip-hop”? “salsa”? “pop”? “folk”? you’ll notice that if you generated any of those names, you’ve already boxed bebé machete in, confined their music to some systematic descriptor. and those genre labels, while perhaps helpful in a simplistic, rudimentary way, eliminate the idiosyncracies of there is not a metaphor that can contain. in other ways, using genres — or metaphors — to describe their music is an act of violence. those words erase the history of these sounds, some of which are new, some of which are ancient.
so you can see why i found there is not a metaphor that can contain to be a difficult album to write about. for an album all about crossing boundaries, language mostly serves to hinder. and not to bring too much biographical information into this, but you can probably imagine why a Latinx genderqueer musician would be particularly opposed to walls and barriers in today’s socio-political climate.
here are three moments that stood out for me:
“craft / a fracture”: the second single from the record, this is one of the more divided songs, as bebé machete swings from sound to sound, allowing the rhythm to interrupt itself, not just changing the tempo but the entire meter. the best part of the song occurs about a minute in, when out of a swirl, bebé machete reforms their flow with “this fracture is not easy…”
“sol”: deceptively minimalist tracks, most of the music in there first half of “sol” are soft electronic beats and an acoustic guitar. the song, midway through becomes a beautiful butterfly taking flight, as the percussion drops and bebé machete sings “the matriarchs protect me / we sleep in their arms”.
“‘ta vivo”: as the final song on the album, bebé machete reiterates the album’s themes with a pitch-shifted vocal: “all we got is you, me, one another / together we will liberate each other / there is not a metaphor that can contain / our struggle, our healing, our love and our pain.” and there you go — if there’s a verse that sums up the record, this is it, and it just so happens to occur at bebé machete’s strongest melody, so it’s impossible not to sing along with. and that, dear reader, is some magic — for a song that is all about how community is necessary for survival, the chorus is meant to have others involved, contributing their own voices. i’d say that this was perfectly symbolic of something — a wonderful metaphor for life — but i’m not going to. i’ll just let bebé machete’s music be what it is.
there is not a metaphor that can contain is out now on funnybone records.
revision: this article has been updated.
