Album Review: Por Colectora by Las Pastillas Del Abuelo
Released in 2005 under the label 007 Records, Por Colectora is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. It’s a wild ride through rock, Latin vibes, and even some unexpected doses of candombe—a genre you don’t hear every day. The Argentinian band Las Pastillas Del Abuelo pulls it off with enough swagger to make you wonder why more bands aren’t blending these styles together.
The album kicks off with "Solo Dios (Almafuerte)," and honestly, it feels like they’re setting the stage for something big. This track grabs you by the collar with its raw energy and doesn’t let go. There’s an almost spiritual grit to the vocals, paired with guitar riffs that feel like classic rock but with a twist of something distinctly Latin. You can tell this song means business—it's got layers, man. Like peeling an onion, except instead of crying, you're headbanging.
Then there’s “Saber Cuándo Parar (Candombe 1),” which stands out because it leans hard into the candombe rhythm. If you’ve never heard candombe before, imagine drums talking to each other in a way that makes your feet move without asking permission. It’s hypnotic, and Las Pastillas nails it here. What sticks with me about this track is how seamless the transition feels between the traditional beats and their alternative rock edge. It’s not forced; it’s organic, like they grew up jamming to both AC/DC and street drummers from Montevideo.
Other tracks like “Lo+Fino” and “Perdido (Chakarera)” keep things interesting too. They throw different styles at you—alternative rock, chakarera—but somehow it all fits under the same roof. That’s what makes Por Colectora special. It’s not just an album; it’s a mixtape of Argentina’s musical soul with a modern punch.
One thing worth mentioning is Guillermo Dall’Occhio’s involvement in the crew. Whoever this guy is, he deserves props because the production quality lets the songs breathe while still keeping them tight. Nothing gets lost in the shuffle, even when the band goes full throttle.
Reflecting on Por Colectora, I can’t help but think about how rare it is to find an album that feels so unapologetically itself. In a world where playlists are curated to death, this record reminds us that music doesn’t have to fit neatly into boxes. And hey, if you listen closely, you might catch yourself dancing to a candombe beat in your kitchen at 2 a.m., wondering how the hell you ended up there.
Final verdict? A solid 8.5/10. Not perfect, but damn close.
