Swedish dance producer and songwriter Cobrah follows her breakout EP Icon with possibly an even more powerful display of her prowess, a self-titled EP that can't help but slay. Because of her rapping vocal style and industrial punk take on trance and house music, Cobrah is often mislabeled as a hyperpop artist- a label that is most likely applied as both compliment and a qualifier. Use of this genre tag in association with Cobrah is misleading, though.
Cobrah's music is reminiscent of classic club jams while being wholly and uniquely of this moment, and it's worth taking stock of how the aesthetics of by-gone eras of electronic music have erupted into contemporary pop music without cramming them into the box of a parallel trend. Otherwise, you end up missing the forest from the trees. Kind of liking considering a BDSM whip for a car seat to be the exact same commodity because they're both made out of leather, or claiming that the Melvins were grunge solely because they were contemporaries of Nirvana- fatal category errors all! Hit backspace and start over!
So what is Cobrah's self-titled then? It's a celebration of life. Or, at least, a certain kind. A life lived for pleasure- giving it to others and receiving it in turn. Cobrah does an exceptional job of creating and sustaining intrigue with severe, bondage aesthetics and illusions to decaying technology as well as the ever-present coils of desire. It would be a mistake to think that this dark pallet of tones, shockingly deep bass, and gothic posturing is an attempt to tempt you into tasting the fruits of evil or confronting you with some reflection of the heart of darkness. Not even close. This shit is just fun!
The brisk and bossy "Dip N Drip" with its refreshingly sexy and slick rhythms and strobe light-like bass lines accentuate the natural percussive pop of Cobrah's relaxed and juicy flow. This relationship between bad-ass beats and slurpy, licentious vocal deliveries also brings the subsequent track "Good Puss" bubbling to life, gradually churning your flesh like it was made of taffy, or like Cobrah is trying to turn you into a meringue for a gelatine pie to be shared between lovers. And both of these tracks feel like a wind-up for the sticky repetition and celebratory scintillation of "Gooey Fluid Girls."
If you attempt to climb up on and ride this slick bolt of love-struck lightning as it takes off from the dance floor and arches over the horizon of the night, don't be surprised to find that it is just as interested in riding you as well. Pleasure is a two-way conversation, afterall.
