Amor Muere 

Meet Mexican “experimental supergroup” 

photo: Natanael Guzmán


Mabe Fratti, Camille Mandoki, Concepción Huerta and Gibrana Cervantes. These are the members who make up Amor Muere, a Mexico City quartet looking to push boundaries through immersive, near-transcendent sonic experiences with an eerie but electrifying brand of electronic experimentalism. After meeting four years ago at a multidisciplinary performance organised by Mandoki, they reportedly struck up a friendship right then and there. As such, much of their material is built around genuine emotional connection and unfiltered self-expression. 

Why Amor Muere?

When they formed, each musician was already respected in their own right, and the music overtly focuses on the individual talents of its members. Which is why they like  to call themselves an “experimental supergroup”. Huerta’s subtle synthesisers and clever tape manipulation reacts with Fratti’s potent cello to form the music’s dark, sultry underbelly. Mandoki brings a unique vocal style imbued with such smoky intensity that she sounds like a woman possessed, while Cervantes contributes mournful violin parts that weave through the delicate spaces in between.

Tell Us More…

After a number of years spent touring Mexico, the group’s highly anticipated debut album, ‘A Time To Love, A Time To Die’, has finally arrived. The lead single, ‘Love Dies’ (which is also the English translation of the group’s name), could quite easily soundtrack the climactic scene in an indie horror film. Think: the moment the main character realises they probably should have listened to the advice they were given and stayed well clear of that forbidding, ramshackle house they’re now creeping around. Its well-placed, knock-knock rhythms and queasy unease certainly whet the appetite for further releases from this talented foursome. Pushing boundaries? Pah! Amor Muere demolish them.

‘A Time To Love, A Time To Die’ is out  on Scrawl  

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