If there’s one thing new album Estirpe makes crystal clear from its very first measure, it’s that berekekê isn’t here to entertain — he’s here to unsettle, to provoke, and to expand what an album can mean. This isn’t background music. It’s a sonic odyssey — a science-fiction symphony that feels more like a phased documentary than a collection of tracks.
Over 12 tracks (or should we call them movements), Estirpe constructs a future dystopia with as much precision as any novel or film. What initially presents itself as a narrative about extraterrestrial return — beings who may have seeded humanity and now come back to claim their “lineage” — quickly becomes something far more introspective: a reflection on origins, power, identity, and collapse.
The opening track, “Estación destino: kab’an,” sets the tone brilliantly — its solemn orchestral statements conjure wide horizons and infinite possibility, like a film score for a movie that doesn’t exist. By the time you arrive at “Vocal training” and “Divertimento para cámara y androide,” you’ve already entered a world where instrumentation is character: metallic voices, curious rhythmic play, and eerie electronic textures become narrative devices in their own right.
Where many concept albums tip into pretension, Estirpe grasps the balance between idea and emotion. Tracks like “Más que cadenas” and “Invernadero de plantas cibernéticas” are structurally adventurous — rooted in electronic and contemporary classical influences. There’s a purposeful unease in the pulsing rhythms and fractured motifs, as though the listener is being coached to dive deep into their soul to experience the sounds.
Small Demo of ‘Estirpe’ by berekekê
“Sofía: la narradora” is the conceptual heart of Estirpe. Framed around an AI tasked with recounting human history, the track flips expectations — the supposedly emotionless observer ends up delivering one of the album’s most intimate and unsettling moments. It’s a clever inversion: an AI telling our story becomes the most human moment on the record.
Musically, the piece leans into cold, controlled textures, with synthetic tones and measured pacing that reflect Sofía’s analytical perspective. But beneath that surface is a quiet sadness. This contrast is where the track truly shines: logic versus emotion, memory versus regret.
By the time we reach “Memento mori” and the closing “Argonautas fugitivos sobrevolando Perseidas,” the album has done more than tell a story — it has immersed us. There’s tragedy here, but also a sense of awe.
Let’s face it, Estirpe isn’t an easy listen, nor should it be. Berekkekê’s refusal to chase hooks or conventional song structures places this album into the rarified realm of truly conceptual work — something that rewards patience, reflection, and repeated plays. It’s cinematic and speculative, and compelling. If you’re willing to invest your attention, Estirpe offers an emotional and intellectual payoff that lingers.
