I have this vivid memory of walking to pick up my oldest from school in June of 2022. For a variety of reasons, I was in a very bad place mentally. And to make matters worse, it was brutally hot. I was depressed, angry with the world, sunburned, and soaked through with sweat. But as the second track on Conclave, “Habla,” settled into its groove, I found myself unconsciously strutting. Not walking, but moving through the streets in lockstep with the music, just as a much-needed cool breeze kicked up, and some scaffolding afforded me a full block’s worth of shade. For a brief moment, I found myself smiling for the first time in what felt like a long time.
Conclave’s self-titled debut has been one of my go-to summer records ever since.
Look, the record didn’t solve my problems. But for a little while, it made me feel lighter, it made me smile. Its blend of Latin rhythms, funky synth bass, smooth vocals, and dance floor vibes feel like a sunny day in the city. Conclave is quintessentially New York. Where other summer records evoke the beach or backyard barbeques, songs like “Habla” and “Perdón” evoke sweaty asphalt and playing dominoes on the sidewalk. Conclave is the sound of a broken air conditioner and an open fire hydrant.
Flashes of jazz and salsa brush up against house on “Take Heed (Nu Sunlight)” and “Alati Yeye Chege.” P-Funk bass lines writhe their way throughout the track list. And the guitar on “Rise (Interlude)” calls to mind Prince’s massive, but languid melody lines on “Purple Rain.” “Rise” itself (not the interlude), is punctuated with electric piano stabs that eventually bleed into minimal techno bass wubs at the tail end.
The album wears its influences on its sleeve. But they’re blended expertly by Cesar Toribio, the Berklee-educated brain behind Conclave. He conjures a block party DJ set worth of vibes into a cohesive whole.
