by Ted Davis (@tddvsss)
Under the moniker Pedazo De Carne Con Ojo, Philadelphia’s Steven Perez makes music that blurs the line between indie rock-indebted experimental and boisterous, globe-trotting pop. A first generation American raised by a working class Dominican family, sounds from Perez’s upbringing intertwine with mumbled rapping and sweaty, simplistic grooves. Bringing his early work to life in a house occupied by members of The Spirit Of The Beehive, Palm, and Body Meat, Philly’s thriving underground scene has had as much of an impact on Perez’s productions as salsa and merengue. On his latest effort, Dun Dun, he swaps colorful confidence for shy neurosis. Written over the course of 2020’s social upheaval, Pedazo De Carne Con Ojo’s newfound fixation with anxiety feels fitting for our times.
On the first two Pedazo De Carne Con Ojo records, energy took the foreground as melodic chanting and oblique hooks played like the perfect soundtrack to a strange-but-satisfying late Summer day. Where 2019’s Pedazo De Clarence Con Ojo and 2020’s ¿Pero Like Cómo E’tá? culled the clamor of a Northeastern city, Dun Dun feels standoffish and esoteric. Loud, skittering beats are replaced with nocturnal patterns that resemble a blacklight rather than a ray of sunshine. Opener “What Could I Say?” sets the tone for a record that strips back the zeal of its predecessors. Later in the album, “Orchids” uses pitch shifted vocal chops to lay the framework for a lackadaisical verse that sounds like repeating a mantra in your own mind.
An outspoken fan of artists like Earl Sweatshirt, Slauson Malone, and MIKE, these left-field influences beam through on Perez’s latest brighter than on his prior work. A warped Roland SP-404 beat on “Image” is more reminiscent of free jazz-inspired IDM than anything Perez has released before, while “Tongue Talk’s” swaggered sampling evokes the golden age of ‘90s East Coast hip hop. Throwing convention to the wind, “What Is Going On?” flips a shoegaze acoustic guitar riff into a track about family that constantly feels on the verge of explosion. The song shifts from weary, sleepy folk-rap to something like the work of Sung Tongs era Animal Collective or The Books’ Nick Zammuto. If he weren’t already friends with some of Philly’s most lauded artists, it wouldn’t be surprising to find Perez rolling with New York’s sLUms collective. Tottering between sparse boom-bap and queasy avant-garde, Dun Dun plays like a Frank Ocean Soundcloud oddity cut to warped vinyl.
Released in April as the pandemic and unrest that shaped Dun Dun have begun to subside, the record’s mellowed out character is still fitting for benign, humid nights spent sitting on the stoop with your friends. With lyricism that is often obscured and relegated to the background, the album’s hazy introversion evokes watching fireflies and junebugs dance over an open field after a June thunderstorm. Perez’s musings are grounded in reality, but always manage to exist in a fluorescent alternate dimension, only occupied by Pedazo De Carne Con Ojo. The influences and experiences Perez pulls from are unique enough to create a world of their own. We may never be able to fully grasp Pedazo De Carne Con Ojo’s boundless multicultural universe, but we’re lucky to delve into it from afar.