For each generation that looks up into a realm above, the structures of earthly power obscure their vision. God always resembles the monarch; heaven always resembles the lavish life. For the faithful, such a filtered understanding of divinity ought to produce a serious crisis. If one can not know the divine from outside the cage of their own cultural context, how can one possibly access the universal moral teachings of the creator?
The believer who finds God as he appears in La Bailanta Eterna to be an offensive perversion has some serious questions to answer. If God were to walk the streets with us today, why shouldn’t he be listening to reggaeton in his earbuds? Ought televangelism’s redefinition of God be completely thrown out without consideration? This masterful album raises these questions and more, exposing the listener to the worship music of a generation inundated with TikTok sounds and 140 character one-liners. The music retains a groove while losing all focus, replacing mental processing with pure movement. This God enters life without the believer questioning his presence at all, a mere axiom paid no further daily attention than the laws of gravity.
As formerly christian societies across the world enter a secular future, the wreckage of the past bears its mangled teeth in bizarre ways. Detached from the terrifying, oppressive dogmatism of a church-controlled state, artists repurpose once holy religious artifacts, throwing on display the organized church’s tremendous fall from grace. Society moves through a new upheaval, once again redefining the divine. Secular institutions struggle to reassemble a meaning for the world, while kids on bandcamp laugh in their faces with scratched vinyls of forgotten sermons in hand.