Written by Pat Moran
Over resonating Andean woodblock percussion and percolating beats, Andrew Amurrio launches his sultry slinky summer track “Koro Ye,” with a hushed, fine grained and smoky semi-sung rap/recitative.
“Baby got a heart like Miami/And she tastes like candy/And I really want to know the price/Ice”
Like a swimmer emerging from warm saltwater surf, the track fairly drips an exotic, erotic, shimmering vibe which is undercut by Amurrio’s anxious echoing plea:
“Baby I want you to stay/Don’t give up on this love.”
Midway through this laidback yet carnal sashay, a robust Afropop horn section intrudes laying down a classic Fela Kuti chart without breaking a sweat. Amurrio repeats the track’s title, letting it echo across the water, building a slow, dynamic swell.
Meanwhile, the beats grow more staggered, stuttering and syncopated. It’s as if a cadre of maracas and bombos players from a pre-Incan culture has tumbled through a wormhole to bolster the electronic dancefloor currents of Afro beat and Afro house.
Imperceptive at first, tension gradually builds. The switchback beats skitter, the horns surface like lazily breeching dolphins and Amurrio’s soothing croon soon merges with the midrange. “Koro Ye” continues to float and flutter on the ocean’s rippling sun-dappled surface to a conclusion, but deeper currents of want and emotion roil deep beneath the surface.
The tension never grows tight as whipcord, but it’s not released.
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