Metropoli by Roedor: A Minimalist Pulse from Colombia’s Underground
Man, Metropoli is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. It’s not loud or flashy—it doesn’t need to be. Released back in 2012 by Colombian producer Miguel Isaza under his project Roedor, this electronic gem feels like wandering through a dimly lit city at 3 a.m., where every sound carries weight and whispers secrets you can’t quite catch. Label Monofonicos knew what they were doing putting this out into the world.
The album’s vibe? Super minimal but deeply emotional. Tracks like “Alineados” and “Humanimal” stuck with me for days after my first listen. Let me tell ya why.
“Alineados” hits different right off the bat. The beat is so simple it almost feels accidental—like someone tapped out a rhythm on an old desk while zoning out—but there’s something hypnotic about how it builds. Layer by layer, tiny glitches creep in, little clicks and pops that make it feel alive. By the time the track fades out, you realize you’ve been holding your breath without even noticing. It’s not just music; it’s more like eavesdropping on the heartbeat of some strange machine dreaming in the dark.
Then there’s “Humanimal,” which totally flips the script. This one starts slow, almost hesitant, like it’s testing the waters before diving in. But once it gets going, oh man—it’s got this raw energy that grabs hold of you. The bassline thumps steady, grounding everything, while these eerie tones swirl around like ghosts trying to find their way home. There’s no big drop or flashy climax here, just this constant push-pull between chaos and calm. When it ends, you’re left feeling unsettled but kinda… grateful? Weird, I know.
Other tracks like “Distracciones” and “Primitivo” keep the same understated magic alive. They don’t scream for attention—they let you come to them. And honestly, that’s what makes Metropoli special. It doesn’t try too hard. It just exists, quiet yet undeniable, pulling you deeper each time you hit play.
What blows my mind is how personal this record feels. Knowing Miguel wrote and produced all of it himself adds another layer to the experience. You can tell he wasn’t chasing trends or aiming for radio play—he made exactly what he wanted to hear. That kind of authenticity? Rare as hell.
Here’s the thing though—the more I listened, the less I thought about whether it was good or bad. Instead, I started wondering if cities themselves could dream. Like, if Bogotá had its own subconscious, would it sound like this? All fragmented rhythms and distant echoes bouncing off concrete walls?
Anyway, yeah. If you’re into electronic music that doesn’t spoon-feed you emotions, give Metropoli a shot. Just don’t expect fireworks or anything. This album’s power lies in its subtlety, lurking in the spaces between notes. Oh, and maybe crank up the volume a bit—you might miss the best parts otherwise.
