La Peluquería del Pueblo: A Raw, Folkish Journey That Sticks With You
So, I stumbled upon La Peluquería del Pueblo by El Perseguidor the other day—yeah, that 2017 gem from Chile—and holy moly, it’s like stepping into a dusty little village where everyone knows your secrets but still offers you a warm cup of tea. This album is pure folk soul with just enough grit to keep you hooked. It’s not glossy or overproduced; instead, it feels handmade, like someone carved these songs out of wood and handed them to you personally.
First off, let me tell you about "Estampas de una aldea." Man, this track hits different. The acoustic guitar work here? Ridiculous. Like, I could swear El Perseguidor was sitting right next to me, plucking those strings as if they were telling stories themselves. And his voice? Kinda raspy, kinda raw, but so full of emotion it makes your chest tighten. There's something haunting yet comforting about how he sings—it’s like hearing an old friend talk about their childhood in a place you’ve never been but somehow feel homesick for anyway.
Then there’s “Nerón tocando la lira,” which honestly caught me off guard. It starts slow, almost dreamy, but then BAM—it shifts gears and pulls you into this weirdly cinematic vibe. You can picture Nerón himself strumming away while Rome burns (or maybe just a tiny fire in some corner of Chile?). What sticks with me most is how unpredictable it feels. Just when you think you know where it’s going, it twists again. By the end, you’re left wondering what exactly happened—but damn, did you enjoy the ride.
The whole thing has this earthy, grounded feel because everything—the lyrics, the melodies, even the credits—is basically El Perseguidor wearing all the hats. Dude wrote it, sang it, played it—all of it. No fancy label backing him up either; this came straight outta Chile on Not On Label, which honestly adds to its charm. It’s DIY in the truest sense, and that authenticity? Yeah, it shines through every single note.
Now, here’s the kicker: listening to this album feels less like entertainment and more like eavesdropping on someone’s inner monologue. It’s messy, beautiful, and deeply human. Honestly, after finishing it, I found myself staring out the window thinking, What would my own ‘peluquería del pueblo’ look like? Would it have cracked mirrors, faded photos, or maybe just a dog sleeping under the chair?
Go ahead, give it a spin. But fair warning: once you dive into La Peluquería del Pueblo, don’t be surprised if you start seeing barbershops everywhere. Or at least wishing you had one nearby.
