‘Algún dia escaperé de aqui, de mi familia y lo que, quieren de mi, Franco ha muerto, campo abierto’ (Campo Abierto) / ‘One day I will escape from here, from my family and what they want from me, Franco is dead, open field’ (Open Field)

This is the debut album from Barcelona synth punks Colegiata and it is quite the unassuming treat.  The synths pulse with a certain analogue warmth and the percussion is crisply motorik as the duo conjure an atmosphere that ambiguously lurks somewhere between mournful regret and quiet euphoria.  The tonal palette is an essentially austere one, yet subtle melodic shifts, partnered with rather more abrupt changes through the rhythmic gears ensure that it never veers into the monochrome.

The vocals closely mirror those oscillating rhythms, largely bathed in a drawled detachment, but not averse to launching into rather more strident proclamations.  Lyrically, they are born of a very particular juncture in Spanish history.  The moment when the optimism of finally emerging from the fascist shadow of Franco ran into the implacable grip of the all-pervasive Catholic church, a slowly suffocating influence at both home and school.

As it spans the menacing escalation Señor Director (Mr. Director) and the brooding restraint of Labor Omnia Vincit (Work Conquers All), before the languorously infectious El Graduado (The Graduate) and the combatively throbbing closer Soy Una Punk (I’m A Punk), it proves a thoroughly evocative journey.