Eva Ahn

In 2021, Chilean musician Chinoy released the album “Venusterio.” Chinoy, also known as Mauricio Castillo Moya, grew up in Valparaiso in the 1980s, playing punk and folk music. However, “Venusterio” expands on traditional qualities of Chilean folk music by utilizing electronic instrumentation. While I am not well-versed in the music of Chinoy, my dad exposed me to some of his songs throughout my childhood.

Just recently, my dad played the 11th (and last) track of “Venusterio” for my family and me while driving at night. I asked him what we were listening to, struck by the compelling backgrounds that contrast with the androgynous vocals that are so characteristic of Chilean folk music.

The song “Dices Nosotros” begins with guitar and a synth-like arpeggiation. After a short intro, a beat drops and Chinoy’s voice comes in. The melody is simple, but the combination of a strong bassline, dynamic drum accents and scattered keyboard melodies elaborate on the composition.

Another well-known Chilean artist, Aldo Enrique Asenjo Cubillos (a.k.a El Macha), is also featured on this track. El Macha, who was born in 1968, is a vocalist for multiple bands such as Chico Trujillo and Bloque Depresivo. His voice, compared to Chinoy’s, is deep and raspy. Despite this significant difference, the transitions between the vocals of these two singers throughout the song is fluid, and, at least for me, very pleasing to the ear.

While one of my best friends, Camila Bonilla, was visiting me at Bowdoin, I took some time to play “Dices Nosotros” for her and ask her some questions. During the initial listening, I attempted to observe her visual response to the music. We sat comfortably on some couches, and I played the piece for her aloud on a speaker. She smiled and watched me as it began, nodding her head once the bass and drums kicked in. I noticed a sort of trance-like reaction to the lulling beat and also some slight confusion as we got closer to the end.

After the piece ended, I asked Camila what she thought. She told me that she found the song interesting, especially because it was “definitely a juxtaposition between classical style and beats,” particularly in relation to Chinoy’s voice. That “classical style” also reminded her of her parents’ taste in older Latin American music. Generally, Camila’s answers to my questions were a bit flat, as she felt that there wasn’t much she could say. She said, honestly, “I don’t really listen to music like this. It would be a good background song, but I don’t know if I would listen to it on a walk or anything.”

I was very intrigued by Camila’s lack of connection to “Dices Nosotros,” mainly because I was so captured by it during my original listening. However, I heard it in a different setting, as my dad drove in the dark of Maine, turning through the woods. I asked Camila if her reaction to the music was impacted by location or environment at all, and she stated that what was more important was the expectation of a song being shared. Essentially, according to Camila, there are certain pressures that come with one person asking another to listen to a song. I asked her to elaborate, and she clarified:

“If I just listen to the song on its own, there’s like a feeling that I get when I know a song is good. It kind of just clicks for me.”

I realized that while Chinoy and Macha’s collaboration clicked for me, there were unknown factors that prevented Camila from experiencing that same gratification.

We listened to “Dice Nosotros” a second time, standing in the kitchen and making toast. I observed Camila’s movements once more. She was talkative, sharing exactly what she liked and disliked as she experienced it. She enjoyed the keyboard lines, but she was viscerally opposed to Chinoy’s voice. She attempted to explain this aversion by articulating a similar feeling regarding the artist Adrienne Lenker. Sometimes, she told me, she struggles to enjoy the singing style: “I like the music in the background, but I don’t know if the voice does it for me.”

Upon the introduction of El Macha’s singing section, though, Camila was drawn in. There were also instrumental aspects of Macha’s bridge that were more enjoyable for her, such as some string elements. She concluded that El Macha’s low, gravelly voice is more reminiscent of the music her parents listen to, and, as a result, is more fitting to her taste. I find this sort of funny because for that same reason, I enjoy the music of both artists; I grew up listening to both musicians in our household.

While I understand Camila’s distaste for Chinoy’s voice, my experience as a vocalist in musically creative environments has influenced my perspective on the styles of other artists. Talking to Camila about Chinoy and Macha forced me to acknowledge how important it is to actively think about what goes into our appreciation of a song or lack thereof. My decision to comment on this is informed by my desire for the disruption of tradition.

As I’ve worked in various musical spaces and with all kinds of musicians, I’ve found that there ordinarily exists great hesitancy regarding singing and the confidence that comes with the act. To expose one’s voice to musical vulnerability and, subsequently, reconfigure oneself as an instrument, is so intimate. I strongly believe that we should not prevent ourselves from singing because we assume we aren’t good enough. What is deemed right and wrong in the music industry is impacted by conservative ideals. Over time, I have diverted myself from deciding what I like or do not like about a singer’s voice. I prefer to concentrate on examining what makes their voice unique in an attempt to respect their individuality.