The compositions of Swedish-Chilean producer Dinamarca evoke the moment when you’ve already called the Uber home, but your friend pulls you onto the dance floor for one last soft perreo before you go. It’s not quite comedown music—there’s still a sense of movement in each of his lilting, silhouetted tracks. Such is the case on “Fubu,” the opener to Dinamarca’s new album, Soñao, which sounds like a train passenger daydreaming out the window while the conductor punches holes in her ticket. A choppy funk carioca rhythm chugs forward under the creamy melodies of Madrileñan experimentalist Ralphie Choo; meanwhile, bright synths dapple the beat, shimmering like the rainbow surface of a soap bubble. Choo lusts after a woman, but often trails off into unfinished thoughts, and before he compares his lover’s shine to that of a Yu-Gi-Oh! card, Dinamarca decelerates the tempo into a slow and low dembow riddim. “Fubu” is somehow tactile and amorphous all at once, a surreal dream that only makes sense when you’re in it.
