Morir de amor

Dying of love sounds like a choked scream blaring from a garage speaker at three in the morning. It’s not the kind of ballad that dissolves into epic choruses or one meant to be belted out in stadiums; it’s more like the moment when the voice cracks without warning and the bassline tangles in a pattern that never quite resolves, as if the song itself hesitates between ending or unraveling further. The chorus doesn’t arrive with redemption, but with a whisper repeated three times before silence swallows it whole, leaving only the echo of a guitar scraping like nails on a chalkboard. What’s most striking is that this imbalance doesn’t sound like a mistake, but a deliberate choice: the song breathes in irregular time signatures, as if every note has to fight for its place in the mix.The track was recorded in under a month, between rehearsal sessions in a rented space in Argentine and last-minute tweaks in borrowed studios.

Lali locked herself in with Mauro De Tommaso and Don Barreto —the same team behind her previous album— to try something different: less pop polish, more distortion, and a couple of guitars that sound like street punk. The result is an album that doesn’t echo her earlier work, nor does it feel like a forced experiment. Morir de amor is one of those songs that emerges when the artist stops chasing formulas and starts playing with what’s at hand. It took 3:37 to record, but the full process—from early sketches to the final master—spanned from August to April of next year.