The Marías Deliver a Wave of Emotions via New Album 'Submarine'
‘Submarine’ album cover by Bethany Vargas
Music from The Marías has been a staple for hazy summer afternoon lounges, rainy day R&B-jazz fusions, and bedroom/dream pop evenings since their 2017/18 introductory Superclean EPs. They furthered their success in these genres with psychedelic ease in their 2021 romantic debut album Cinema, which features the heavy-handed hit "Hush", and secured the band their first Grammy nomination. Over the next three years, they turned the tides and released no new solo music, instead making way for collaborations with fellow Puerto Rican star Bad Bunny on his critically acclaimed album Un Verano Sin Ti and twin singles "Separate Ways" and ""A Room Up In The Sky" with indie producer/songwriter Eyedress.
Now, they have come back to shore bearing Submarine, their new storytelling record that moves seamlessly from top to bottom in a reflection surrounding relationships, the places they take us, and how they end. The recurring theme of water seems to represent a number of different ideas: it serves as a mirror when you look at it, nurtures life and ecosystems, but also harbors secrets and has the power to drown us out. A submarine is a tool that can be used to explore these treacherous depths with a 360 scope.
The album starts in New York and the "Hamptons", a getaway into luxuries, married women wearing white, and unanswered conversation: "I'm a little bit in love," Maria confesses over the surrealist, almost robotic melody. The narrative inches back towards California in "Echo", stuck in the middle of two coasts and a situation that is falling apart at its seams. She starts this track with a lyric that I feel is a motif throughout the entire record, so simple and universal but simultaneously so personal: "I wonder what it's like/ To be alone/ If you won't call me back/ I guess, I'll know".
In general, there is something so adrenaline-inducing about a lead single: the promise of a new record, the comparing and contrasting of what we've heard and what is coming, and the allowance to assess new lyrics and melodies into their respective moods and playlists. Similar to some pop songs, "Run Your Mouth" dives right into a chorus before the first verse. The beat requires dancing as it builds into new heights and levels of intensity, with watery synths at the center surrounded by angsty guitar and bass riffs. Maria recalls the song coming out of a place of conflict avoidance, letting ignorance be bliss while your surroundings crumble.
In the second single, "Lejos de Ti", dramatic crescendos call nostalgic memories into a place of confusion. Caught in love's limbo, The Marías explore loneliness through the lens of a frozen, dark world, creating a list of all of the things that bring you back to somebody in the lyrics: their eyes and the songs they shared. In fact, multiple songs throughout the record present lyrical cameos to songs by longtime inspirations and timeless favorites: "No Me Queda Mas" by Selena in "Lejos De Ti", "Doncella" by Zion & Lennox in the ever so groovy "Ay No Puedo", and "A love song by Norah Jones" in the album's closer, "Sienna" (more on that later).
All of the references to a long distance relationship, the pros, cons, and "Facetiming every night" (see "Real Life") come to a devastating end in track 11, "No One Noticed". A melody stumbles around on the keys and distorted guitar playing, spiraling into itself over and over and ultimately creating a riptide bridge: "Come on, don't leave me, it can't be that easy, babe/ If you believe me, I guess I'll get on a plane/ Fly to your city, excited to see your face/ Hold me, console me, and then I'll leave without a trace".
In an album that always comes back to the feeling of being alone, grasping at connections with no physical manifestations, and being a great distance apart from somebody, "Paranoia" and "Love You Anyway" play instead from angles of compromise and restlessness in love. Sonically, they both carry a feeling of a lush summer day and a fresh breeze brushing your face as you cruise down the highway, whether you're running towards or away from something is up in the air.
The Marías for Alternative Press, photo by Sarah Pardini
In “If Only”, the record’s narrative starts to come to the end of its line. Soft yet intricate piano playing guides Maria’s voice through regretful lyrics, which are traded in for a saxophone solo in between verses. She references only being seen in their dreams at the end, which not only connects quickly to “I live under your eyelids” in the following track but also casually points back to their 2017 track “Only in My Dreams”.
Siren-esque vocals and airy instrumentation cushion the devastating blow of “Sienna”, the last track of Submarine. The song takes the shape of a fantasy, the imagining of a life and child that could have been with somebody, building up gently until it is abruptly cut off like any good dream does upon waking from it.
This project captures the melting pot of cinematic niches presented by the band over the years, even occasionally showcasing melodic and visual consistencies from Cinema and the Superclean EPs. On the other hand, evidence from the stark contrast in the colors applied and high-intensity lyrical content imply that Submarine is onto something remarkably new. The Marías have stepped inward on this record to look at the different angles for themselves, tinkering with the machinery and mechanisms. In the way that water arranges to take the shape of its container, the elements of this album swim into structures that are intuitive to each individual track, making way for soundscapes that are reminiscent of pop, rock, and even electronic music and blowing the idea of a “sophomore slump” out of their waters.
