No te dejes desanimar

This song is a nearly four-and-a-half-minute journey where La Máquina de Hacer Pájaros leaves behind the rawer sound of their first album to dive into more ambitious, almost cinematic arrangements. The track begins with a piano that sounds like neon light over a rhythm that seems to move in two distinct time signatures, as if the beat were stretching and contracting at the same time. There’s something in that rhythmic tension that doesn’t sound like a mistake, but rather a deliberate choice: Oscar Moro’s drums and Charly García’s keyboards challenge each other, creating a foundation that holds everything together without falling into predictability. García’s voice, ever-changing, fluctuates between whispers and controlled shouts, as if he were sharing a secret he doesn’t quite want to let go of. The result is a piece that doesn’t ask for permission to sound complex, yet never loses itself in its own elaboration.

They recorded it at Ion studios in 1977, during the height of Argentine rock before the country entered another phase. The album Películas, where this song lives, was their studio farewell: a work that, according to the Argentine edition of Rolling Stone, later ranked 71st on its list of the hundred best local rock albums. They weren’t trying to sound like anyone else, but rather like themselves at that exact moment: with more layers, more risks, and a piano that sometimes seems like another character in the story.