Porque no los Dos: Helado Negro, "Double Youth"

Andrea Diaz

Courtesy of Asthmatic Kitty.

A Pitchfork review described Helado Negro‰’s latest LP Double Youth as “an exercise in reconciling forgotten artifacts with present memories.‰Û It’s clear that even in his fourth album, the son of Ecuadorian immigrants has not left behind his Latin roots, but most importantly has held onto elements of his past as a child and brought them into harmony with his eclectic taste of music. 

Recorded in his home studio, Double Youth gives us a glimpse into the strange days of the artist’s youth with a magical twist, while allowing us to extract those same elements of nostalgia out of our own lives.

The cover art for his latest work show two small children with their faces painted; one appears to be talking (or perhaps, in the awkwardness of childhood, that is simply his smile) and the other stares at the camera with a blank face. Only one of those boys is Roberto Carlos Lange, known as Helado Negro; an artist so unique in his sound and style that his music presents a journey rather than a compilation of good songs.

The tracks off of Double Youth seem to rekindle his relationship with the past by presenting his life experiences as more in-depth, exaggerated dream sequences. In “I Krill You‰Û, underneath an almost 80s synth beat, he begins the song with “my hand takes you to the bottom of our year,‰” a clear indication that this song is a yearning to share a past that tastes sweet and dreamy with someone else. Halfway through, the song takes an almost celestial break reminiscent of a church choir floating with you in that dream and while the beat escalates to bring you back to the present real-life, Lange does not let go of the vocals: “it‰’s a dream of you again‰Û.

Perhaps his stage name was most fitting for his latest album. In Spanish, helado is the term for ice cream, a child‰’s favorite summer treat. Those flavorful drips of vanilla running down a cone to land on your fingertips are reminiscent of the ever-flavorful and intimate beats Lange slowly trickles down your memory box.