Mabe Fratti – ‘Sentir Que No Sabes’ album review: refreshingly honest and captivatingly cinematic avant-pop

Posted On June 26, 2024June 26, 2024

THE SKINNY: Central and South America has always been a fertile breeding ground for endlessly inventive music. For most people, the mention of the continent’s music will evoke the euphoric sounds of cumbia, Latin psychedelia and even bossa nova. In the modern age, however, the music scene is distinctly more diverse. Perhaps one of the most exciting and innovative artists to arise from Central America in recent years has been Mabe Fratti, the Guatemalan cellist whose fourth solo record, Sentir Que No Sabes, speaks volumes about her dedication to experimentation and honesty.

Sentir Que No Sabes is arguably Fratti’s strongest effort yet, with each track seeming more impactful and emotionally affecting than the last. As a record, it is awash with emotionally-driven, melancholic offerings. In contrast to a lot of – for want of a better phrase – sad music, this album never seems to wallow in itself or drag on too much. Perhaps this is due to the fact that, among the melancholy, there is a great deal of variety in Fratti’s sound, darting between avant-pop, cinematic soundscapes, and even jazz at times with apparent ease.

The sounds that Fratti is able to create with the cello can only be described as experimental, bolstered by the fantastic production work of I. La Católica. In addition to that experimental edge, however, the record contains a lot of classic soundscapes which would feel right at home in the cinematic world. Tracks like ‘Kitana’, for instance, are equally befitting of this album as they are the soundtrack of an Italo-horror film from the 1970s. It is this wide variety in sound which helps this 13-track album fly by without becoming repetitive. 

Her proficiency with the cello is certainly the highlight of Sentir Que No Sabes, but Mabe Fratti’s compelling vocal performance and refreshingly heartfelt lyricism are also worthy of commendation. At multiple points throughout the record, Fratti’s ethereal tones act as a sort of guiding light through the darkness and melancholy of her cinematic soundscapes. Sentir Que No Sabes is a sonic journey the likes of which are rarely seen. 

For fans of: Walking through art galleries on a summer’s day, careful to give each and every painting an equal level of appreciation.

A concluding comment from Ben’s dad: “Back in my day, it was all about lads in guitar bands. I never thought I’d have to hear a cello at the forefront. It’s just not the same.”

Sentir Que No Sabes track-by-track:

Release date: June 28th | Producer: I. La Católica | Label: Tin Angel Records

‘Kravitz’: This dark, brooding track sets up the atmosphere that is to come on Sentir Que No Sabes, featuring Fratti’s stunning vocals and an orchestral arrangement that occasionally borders on the cinematic. [4.5/5]

‘Pantalla azul’: While this is, irrefutably, a melancholic track, it never seems to feel too sorry for itself, almost as though Fratti’s voice is a guiding light through that melancholy. [4/5]

‘Elastica II’: The initial disappointment that this is, in fact, not an ode to Justine Frischmann’s Britpop outfit, quickly disappears once you hear the stunning experimental soundscape of Fratti’s cello playing and production. [4/5]

‘Oídos’: There is something inexplicably gripping about Fratti’s cello playing on this track, allowing ‘Oídos’ something of a timeless quality that makes the song dangerously addictive. [5/5]

‘Quieras o no’: This track sounds as if it has been lifted from a particularly suspenseful crime thriller, following the protagonist as he attempts to evade danger in the dark and windy side streets of a historic city. It might not grab the attention quite like some of the other efforts on this record, but its music performance and production are no less impressive. [3.5/5]

‘Enfrente’: If you had to ask somebody what instrument was making the strange, supernatural noises on this track, I reckon they could cycle through a hundred guesses before they eventually landed on the cello. [4/5]

‘Elastica I’: Much darker and more unnerving than its earlier counterpart, this track is more of a transitional sound within the record than a song in its own right. Nevertheless, it is as captivating as you would expect from Fratti. [4/5]

‘Márgen del índice’: One of the more confrontational efforts to make it into the tracklisting, in an instrumental sense, yet that feeling is contrasted by Fratti’s uplifting vocal performance, the juxtaposition of which creates something incredibly compelling. [4.5/5]

‘Alarmas olvidadas’: For an album which is, reduced down to its very essence, a woman and her cello, there is an impressive level of variety present. As we enter the final quarter of the record, it is yet to feel repetitive or waning in any way. [4/5]

‘Descubrimos un suspiro’: Another track which would feel fit at home on the silver screen. Its title roughly translates to “We discover a sigh”, but the feelings evoked by the track are more akin to a gasp. [4.5/5]

‘Intento fallido’: The jerky rhythm of this song rarely gives you a chance to fully relax into the vocals of Fratti, but by this point in the tracklisting, the audience is fairly used to being kept on its toes. [3.5/5]

‘Kitana’: This is the shortest track to feature on the album, at only 78 seconds in runtime, but it certainly does not lack impact. Awash with suspense and intrigue, it could have been lifted right out of a Dario Argento film soundtrack. [4/5]

‘Angel nuevo’: As the album draws to a close, Fratti treats the audience to one of her most vulnerable, heartfelt moments from across her celebrated discography. The track and the album as a whole paint a picture of a truly groundbreaking artist. [5/5]

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