Husfikbur by Sehore: Album Review

by admin September 18, 2025

September 18, 2025

Sehore’s second album Husfikbur, released in 2025 under MusicHunters Records, builds on the playful experimentation of Ladencia, which won a Silver Medal at the Global Music Awards. But here, the Spanish outfit dives deeper into kitsch aesthetics, layering humor with philosophy, consonance with dissonance, and familiar genres twisted inside out. Recorded at Paco Loco Studio and mastered by Mario G. Alberni at Kadifornia, the project is a surreal hall of mirrors where memories, politics, and absurdity collide. The album title itself evokes a shop window’s glass and reflects its central idea, with music reflecting the loss while being a soft pillow of comfort.

The tracks can be a theatrical vignette, where genres, bossa velha, flamenco, cha cha cha, funk, are fragmented, reshuffled, and sometimes contradicted. Take “Plástico,” a biting commentary on environmental decay. Built on three chromatic notes in a row, it pulses with thumping beats and vivid melodies while the singer’s high refrain hammers home the suffocating omnipresence of the material: “Plástico / microplástico / sobre plástico.” The repetition feels suffocating, almost mechanical, as it echoes pollution’s monotony and its inescapability.

Later, “Tientos, tangos y siguiriya funk” brings flamenco into dialogue with funk. Its slow beats and chiming guitar shimmer under a husky, mournful vocal that lingers on betrayal and resilience. He sings, “Pagué por tus engaños, pero al final cobré un desengaño,” turning love’s loss into bitter accounting, where emotional debt leaves scars deeper than money. With the refrain “tener lo que puedes perder es perder lo que puedes tener,” the song spins into a philosophical paradox as it circulates around like a trap left by heartbreak.

By contrast, “Armas” confronts the arms industry through a restrained vocal line stretched across a jagged 5/4 rhythm. The shimmering guitars and thick percussion underscore lyrics that expose the way the current war has been profiteering in a double bind, as weapons feed families, while destroying others. “Las balas hacían / las mismas familias que se deshacían” lands like a dagger as it condenses the tragedy into chilling symmetry.

With Husfikbur, Sehore creates an eccentric, razor-sharp critique of modernity, where laughter and lament bleed into each other. This is an album that unsettles even as it enchants, daring the listener to keep peering through the glass.