Chicano Batman’s Cycle Of Existential Rhyme – A Wild Ride Through Sound and Soul
Alright, let’s get into it. Chicano Batman is back with Cycle Of Existential Rhyme, their latest drop under El Relleno, and man, this album feels like a warm hug from an old friend who's seen some stuff. The US-based band has always had that knack for blending retro vibes with modern-day feels, but this time? They really outdid themselves.
First off, let me tell you about “Black Lipstick.” This track slaps hard right from the start. It’s got this groovy bassline that just worms its way into your brain, and the falsetto vocals? Chef’s kiss. What makes it stick in my head isn’t just how smooth it sounds—it's the lyrics. There’s something kinda haunting yet empowering about singing along to lines like "I'm not afraid of being alone." Like, yeah, same, buddy. Same. Every time I hear it, I catch myself humming it for hours after. No joke.
Then there’s “Forever,” which hits different. It starts slow, almost dreamy, like you’re floating on a cloud made of nostalgia. But then BAM! The horns kick in, and suddenly you're at a block party somewhere in East LA, surrounded by good vibes and even better people. The rhythm switches up so effortlessly—you don’t even realize you’ve been dancing until you look down and see your feet moving. That breakdown halfway through? Pure magic. Feels like they took everything chaotic about life and turned it into music that actually makes sense.
What’s wild about this album is how it doesn’t try too hard to be anything other than what it is: raw, real, and unapologetically Chicano Batman. You can tell these guys poured their hearts into it without worrying if it fit into any particular box. And honestly, that’s what makes it work.
Here’s the thing though—listening to Cycle Of Existential Rhyme feels less like hearing songs and more like living moments. One second you’re vibing out, the next you’re thinking deep thoughts about existence or whatever. By the end, you might find yourself wondering why most albums these days don’t hit as hard emotionally. Or maybe that’s just me overthinking again.
Anyway, give this one a spin. Just don’t blame me when you can’t stop playing it on repeat. Oh, and here’s a random thought to leave you with: If this album were a car, it’d definitely be one of those lowriders with hydraulics—flashy, soulful, and built to last.
