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**La Casa Azul: La Polinesia Meridional Review**

In the sprawling landscape of Spanish indie pop, few artists have managed to craft something as deliriously joyful and unapologetically synthetic as Guille Milkyway's La Casa Azul. While their 2007 masterpiece "La Revolución Sexual" might grab most of the critical acclaim, it's the sun-drenched euphoria of 2004's "La Polinesia Meridional" that truly captures the essence of what makes this project so magnificently absurd and utterly irresistible.

Born from the fertile imagination of Guille Milkyway in the early 2000s, La Casa Azul emerged as Spain's answer to the question nobody knew they were asking: what if someone took the sugary rush of Europop, the knowing wink of indie sensibilities, and the production values of a Eurovision fever dream, then wrapped it all in lyrics about love, longing, and the beautiful mundanity of modern life? The result was something that shouldn't work but absolutely does – a project that treats sincerity and irony as dance partners rather than mortal enemies.

"La Polinesia Meridional" arrives as La Casa Azul's second full-length, following 2003's promising debut "El Sonido Efervescente de La Casa Azul." Where that first album hinted at greatness, "La Polinesia Meridional" delivers it in spades, presenting a sonic world so meticulously crafted and relentlessly upbeat that it feels like being trapped inside a particularly sophisticated video game from 1985 – and loving every minute of it.

The album's genius lies in its complete commitment to its own artificial paradise. This is music made entirely from synthesizers, drum machines, and samplers, yet it pulses with more genuine emotion than most "authentic" indie rock. Milkyway's approach to electronic music feels less like bedroom producer noodling and more like a master craftsman building elaborate pop symphonies from digital building blocks.

The standout track "Chicle Cosmos" exemplifies everything brilliant about La Casa Azul's approach. Built around a hypnotic synth arpeggio that sounds like it was beamed directly from some alternate-universe '80s, the song layers melody upon melody until it achieves a kind of transcendent ridiculousness. Milkyway's vocals, delivered in his characteristic deadpan style, tell stories of cosmic romance with the same matter-of-fact tone you'd use to order coffee, creating a fascinating tension between the mundane and the sublime.

"La Nueva Yma Sumac" showcases the project's more experimental tendencies, incorporating elements of exotica and lounge music into the mix without ever losing that essential La Casa Azul DNA. It's a track that could soundtrack either a sophisticated cocktail party or a particularly stylish alien invasion, possibly both simultaneously.

The album's title track serves as its emotional centerpiece, a sprawling seven-minute journey through synthesized landscapes that manages to be both the most ambitious and most intimate song in the collection. Here, Milkyway's vision feels most fully realized – this is pop music as architecture, building elaborate emotional structures from the simplest electronic materials.

What makes "La Polinesia Meridional" so enduring is its refusal to apologize for its own artificiality. In an era when indie credibility often demanded rough edges and lo-fi authenticity, La Casa Azul presented something polished to a mirror shine and proud of it. This wasn't music trying to sound like it was recorded in someone's garage; this was music that celebrated the studio as an instrument in itself.

The album's influence on Spanish indie pop cannot be overstated. It helped pave the way for a generation of artists who understood that electronic music could be both emotionally resonant and unabashedly fun. Bands like Hidrogenesse and Cooper would later mine similar territory, but few have matched La Casa Azul's particular combination of sophistication and silliness.

Today, "La Polinesia Meridional" stands as a high-water mark not just for La Casa Azul but for Spanish electronic music in general. While subsequent albums like "La Revolución Sexual" would bring greater critical recognition and "La Gran Esfera" would push the project into even more experimental territory, there's something about the pure, concentrated joy of "La Polinesia Meridional" that feels irreplaceable.

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