Sotomayor’s Wabi Sabi is the funnest record of 2026

Shout out to subscriber N_Gorski for today’s pick. They popped into the comments on last week’s recommendation to ask what I thought of the new Sotomayor record. Well, I hadn’t actually heard it yet, but now I’m obsessed.

The group consists of siblings Raul and Paulina Sotomayor from Mexico City. Wabi Sabi is their first record since 2020’s Origenes, and it is pure joy. You can look back through everything I’ve recommended over the last several months, and “fun” is not how you’d describe most of it. But that’s what Wabi Sabi is — it’s fun, chaotic, and dancey as hell.

I was only familiar with Sotomayor before this because of a short documentary about Raul’s various projects made by Ableton. In that video, he discusses how his approach to making music has changed over the years. How he used to try to make things sound “proper” and “clean,” but now it’s about “how much can we distort it” or “how much can we stretch it.”

You can certainly hear that in the music. The first track, “Me dejo llevar,” opens with a synth arpeggio that has clearly been timestretched to within an inch of its life. It’s loaded with digital artifacts. The whole track has a light crust, as if everything is clipping just ever so slightly. “Who’s there” similarly bristles as the edges, sounding like a dance floor constantly on the verge of erupting into a riot.

The vintage electronic drum hits, droning bass, and reverb-drenched noise stabs never reach full catharsis, but simmer beautifully into album highlight “Vida.” Here, Paulina finds a sultry gear as she croons over a UK garage-inflected track that eventually erupts into an afrohouse club banger.

Wabi Sabi ricochets between genres with infectious abandon. Afrobeat, cumbia, electro pop, R&B, and more all collide in what is easily the most fun album of 2026 so far. What makes it all the more impressive is that, for all its unconventional sounds (a donkey jaw?) and stylistic excursions, Sotomayor still has a distinct vision that holds the record together.

At no point does the chaos threaten to overwhelm. Never does it feel like the duo are simply throwing things at the wall to see what sticks; everything is a carefully made decision in service of the party. The gently meandering guitar of “Yo se todo de ti,” the classic house of “Todo se derrumba,” and the dancehall of “Prende la palma” all feel unified by Paulina’s undeniable charisma on the mic and Raul’s uninhibited sonic curiosity.