So I might have distanced myself from this blog like it had some sort of STD, but if there's one thing perpetually infectious enough to temp me back in the game (apart from The Game himself wanting to put me on the game) then that would be the 90s dance music legend of the disco-riddled brand Corona. Fronted and afronted by teeth-on-legs freak of nature Olga de Souza, that poor gigantic beautiful woman gritted her teeth, with her smile that stretches as wide as the equator, harder than Diana Ross trying to say the alphabet backwards on her way back from a sober McDonalds drive-thru visit at 3am, but finally got her turn to gurn on the disappointing-but-not-completely-disappointing 3rd album And Me U from 2000. I have no idea where on earth this new album is being released (possibly her native Brazil and, fingers crossed, eastern Europe - that's no joke, the guys are hot over there, all that lifting, gay porn and farming, etc). What I do know, however, is that this is a 'uuuge return to form if return to form suddenly means not your best but still quite arousing to the ears. With a rash of piano keys, glitzy synths, itchy basslines and eccentric vocal scariness, it can only the return of Olga's Corona crusade.
Shambolic trance-quake opener Welcome (you'll hear this word a lot) is a eurotrash-tastic formula Olga finds enough inspiration from to sing 'welcome' over and over again like she's having enough visitors for one of those famous Brazillian orgies.
Ogla's ravishing vocals have came on leaps and bounds since her dry spell of And Me U, and her limitations are hardly even noticeable, especially when she scares the shit out of you with her throaty intimidation techniques (think Lonnie Gordon meets spooked horse) . She gets trance-sexual on the rampant first single Angel, a convincing pledge about being 'hot tonight', which is a big fuck you to anyone not blessed with her fierce 7ft black amazonian Goddess physique (there's not many of us left you know). The album version is a swooshy synth usurper, and 'I'm not a ninja - a whoah oh!' is her endearing pronounciation so get used to it. The Libex Extended edit is also supplied, and gives just the right dosage of emphatic dancefloor fuel, but loses the simmering trance of the original. It's a drafty sounding thing, but is razor-sharp and succintly melodic stuff. Olga cackles away and it's hard to deny she's giving it her all this time - this could be massive in Serbia.
The smouldering I Can't Wait is a sly electro-fizzer, and could be a Vertigo remix (remember those?) of a Chicane song featuring Sandy Chambers. A slow-burner, it soon ignites into one of the standouts.
In the glossy tradition of Gina G and Alexia, Corona's own scintilating salsa romp Gimme Love has a lot to live up to and doesn't disappoint. In fact, it's a sensational charge, sounding both languid and utterly pilled up in sprawled-out-unconcious-in-Ibiza heaven. Wave-crashing trance splashes create a sunkissed mist of ripe and rippling shoulder-jiggling euphoria. Olga's physical gifts are more than matched in substance here, parading herself with pride and sexual arrogance (again, there's not many of us around these days). A full facial of spurting synths and seal-barking barking-mad vocals demanding sex at gun point by the sounds of it. And those drums!
With rippling piano keys thawing icy temperatures, Fly Away could almost be Dana International having another go at cracking the Spanish eurodisco market following her trannytastic Matadoras floppage after her Sony deal fell through, but I digress.
Above: the aesthetic of Dana International's epic Hakol Ze Letova album lives on after all!
I'm not going to lai to you, My Song (Lai Lai Lai) is yet another playfully cunning piano-drenched disco cocktail (the former binge-syncher is obviously a shameless binge-drinker as well). Utterly soaked in hysteria, those hic-upping shimmy sounds are as infectious as they are cringe-worthy. She gets her racism on for Black Cinderella, a fierce social-commentary number inspired by those Oprah Winfrey does pantomine rumours. 'Sell me what you want' isn't really my motto though - I prefer stealing.
Above: not the strongest cut to injure yourself with, perhaps the generic subject matter makes it an accessible one nonetheless.
Nocturnal omission Saturday is the first song I initially struggled with, but it gives a good enough pounding, and that's something I've never been able to resist for long. I sometimes rate guys on the street by saying 'oh he would be good for a Tuesday' as if to rank Monday as the worst and Friday/Saturday as the peak of what I'd really expect. Corona's Saturday feels more like a Wednesday.
Not one to beat around the bush (she is Brazillian after all), Beat & Shake is a September-lite anthemic ballad, with a contorting bassline whose grip keeps getting tighter with every gasping chorus from our girl Olga. I love the gutsy attitude she assumes, swamped in disco pathos and drowning in enough cliches for even deaf people to get the drift. With a grinding guitar ploughing through the middle-8, this could be the album's surprisingly durable underrated gem (And Me U's was the Donna Summer-lite tampon-out-in-the-rain style I Only Came To Dance, Walking On Music's was the Donna Summer-lite jittery PWL-tastic I Belong To You (80s) and Rhythm of The Night's was the pounding pathos of I Gotta Keep Dancing - just so you know). Grappling to find the right key to sing in, this is probably what makes me love it so much - it's so scappy and exhausting you'll need to lie down afterwords!
Not that she's one for violence, the tender Beating of My Heart is a cosey ballad with a bit of a draft coming from Olga's breathless cooing giving me the chills. It's low-key, frosty, sincere and quietly beautiful.
Shambolic trance-quake opener Welcome (you'll hear this word a lot) is a eurotrash-tastic formula Olga finds enough inspiration from to sing 'welcome' over and over again like she's having enough visitors for one of those famous Brazillian orgies.
Ogla's ravishing vocals have came on leaps and bounds since her dry spell of And Me U, and her limitations are hardly even noticeable, especially when she scares the shit out of you with her throaty intimidation techniques (think Lonnie Gordon meets spooked horse) . She gets trance-sexual on the rampant first single Angel, a convincing pledge about being 'hot tonight', which is a big fuck you to anyone not blessed with her fierce 7ft black amazonian Goddess physique (there's not many of us left you know). The album version is a swooshy synth usurper, and 'I'm not a ninja - a whoah oh!' is her endearing pronounciation so get used to it. The Libex Extended edit is also supplied, and gives just the right dosage of emphatic dancefloor fuel, but loses the simmering trance of the original. It's a drafty sounding thing, but is razor-sharp and succintly melodic stuff. Olga cackles away and it's hard to deny she's giving it her all this time - this could be massive in Serbia.
The smouldering I Can't Wait is a sly electro-fizzer, and could be a Vertigo remix (remember those?) of a Chicane song featuring Sandy Chambers. A slow-burner, it soon ignites into one of the standouts.
In the glossy tradition of Gina G and Alexia, Corona's own scintilating salsa romp Gimme Love has a lot to live up to and doesn't disappoint. In fact, it's a sensational charge, sounding both languid and utterly pilled up in sprawled-out-unconcious-in-Ibiza heaven. Wave-crashing trance splashes create a sunkissed mist of ripe and rippling shoulder-jiggling euphoria. Olga's physical gifts are more than matched in substance here, parading herself with pride and sexual arrogance (again, there's not many of us around these days). A full facial of spurting synths and seal-barking barking-mad vocals demanding sex at gun point by the sounds of it. And those drums!
With rippling piano keys thawing icy temperatures, Fly Away could almost be Dana International having another go at cracking the Spanish eurodisco market following her trannytastic Matadoras floppage after her Sony deal fell through, but I digress.
Above: the aesthetic of Dana International's epic Hakol Ze Letova album lives on after all!
I'm not going to lai to you, My Song (Lai Lai Lai) is yet another playfully cunning piano-drenched disco cocktail (the former binge-syncher is obviously a shameless binge-drinker as well). Utterly soaked in hysteria, those hic-upping shimmy sounds are as infectious as they are cringe-worthy. She gets her racism on for Black Cinderella, a fierce social-commentary number inspired by those Oprah Winfrey does pantomine rumours. 'Sell me what you want' isn't really my motto though - I prefer stealing.
Above: not the strongest cut to injure yourself with, perhaps the generic subject matter makes it an accessible one nonetheless.
Nocturnal omission Saturday is the first song I initially struggled with, but it gives a good enough pounding, and that's something I've never been able to resist for long. I sometimes rate guys on the street by saying 'oh he would be good for a Tuesday' as if to rank Monday as the worst and Friday/Saturday as the peak of what I'd really expect. Corona's Saturday feels more like a Wednesday.
Not one to beat around the bush (she is Brazillian after all), Beat & Shake is a September-lite anthemic ballad, with a contorting bassline whose grip keeps getting tighter with every gasping chorus from our girl Olga. I love the gutsy attitude she assumes, swamped in disco pathos and drowning in enough cliches for even deaf people to get the drift. With a grinding guitar ploughing through the middle-8, this could be the album's surprisingly durable underrated gem (And Me U's was the Donna Summer-lite tampon-out-in-the-rain style I Only Came To Dance, Walking On Music's was the Donna Summer-lite jittery PWL-tastic I Belong To You (80s) and Rhythm of The Night's was the pounding pathos of I Gotta Keep Dancing - just so you know). Grappling to find the right key to sing in, this is probably what makes me love it so much - it's so scappy and exhausting you'll need to lie down afterwords!
Not that she's one for violence, the tender Beating of My Heart is a cosey ballad with a bit of a draft coming from Olga's breathless cooing giving me the chills. It's low-key, frosty, sincere and quietly beautiful.
Below: I've said it before, but would this woman cheer the fuck up already?
Pursuing the latest trance trends setting the Romanian charts on fire from 2003, the retun of Corona is nothing short of a triumph, with bat-crazy Olga sticking her teeth into it with intense aplomb. It won't be a hit anywhere, but Y Generation is on par with any trance-pop that can be found on much of central and eastern European radio. With the name Corona, you won't think it's 1995 anymore, you'll think it's 2002. The effortlessly relentless momentum of Gimme Love in particular gets my juices flowing, and this is an album that deserves to be heard. Spellbinding eurotrash!
Rating:
9/10
Rating:
9/10
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