I’ve been writing about music for over ten years, and I don’t think anybody can sing the word “asshole” as sweetly as Malena Cadiz. I’ve also been writing about Cadiz’s music for almost that long, so I can say that her latest album Hellbent & Moonbound is her most fully-realized album in quite some time. For Hellbent, Cadiz assembled a comforting cocoon of strings and horns that beautifully compliments her honeyed gravel and sly sense of humor.
The album feels like a languid road trip with a trusted friend. Cadiz lets the silences breath easily, allowing the unspoken to remain that way, because it doesn’t need to be said. But the truths that are told are the ones that leave you a little bit changed. With Cadiz’s observational eye and knack for spying the beautiful, odd, and beautifully odd, she’s always excelled at building intriguing character portraits and dropping poetic bombs with no notice.
I can’t help but be transfixed by the album’s opener, “Museum Shoes.” As someone for whom the Metropolitan Museum of Art was literally my childhood playground, Cadiz’s tour of the institution and its environs makes me fall in love all over again. This is not a song about beauty so much as enjoying the ride — especially when you take notice of the art around you that is not the art in the museum.
Cadiz’s music sounds effortless, but it’s nothing like that at all. As much as she reminds us to take pleasure in the small stuff, this kind of album is only the result of finely-tuned artistic discipline. But hey — you should hit play and watch the white lines pass your window — reveling in all the variations within.