Best Local Albums of 2020

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Written by the La La Lista music staff: Emilyann McKelvey, Evy Duskey, Jorge Farah, Jamie Larson, Ezequiel Mancilla, Monique Nicholas, Pablo Pérez.

Hey, we made it. It’s the end of 2020, and this will be our final entry for this year. Over the course of the last 12 months we’ve been documenting our favorite songs released in the local scene which, against all odds, simply wouldn’t stop creating.

“Best of” lists are inherently flawed, of course — we are but human, there’s a 100% certainty we missed hundreds of incredible albums that simply slipped us by. And what does it mean for an album to be the “best,” anyway? These are all questions we could explore, but we’d rather just spend the next few minutes paying tribute to the albums that accompanied us this year, and that we think you should listen to. If you have suggestions, please send them our way — we are always happy to hear them.

Thank you, as always, for reading. And for the musicians below, thank you for doing what you do. It truly is an enormous thing. This year showed us that.

Barbi Recanati – Ubicación en Tiempo Real

Barbi Recanati first entered my purview when her former band Utopians opened for The Cure back in 2013. I didn’t actually get to see her; by the time I’d made my way into River Plate stadium, the band had finished their set. But a clip of her meeting Robert Smith backstage went semi-viral, and I instantly knew I had to check out a band that reacted the same way I would if Robert Smith handed me a bottle of champagne and wished me luck. And though Utopians weren’t quite my bag, Recanati’s voice and gift for melody were unmistakeable. Just a few years later, she would emerge as not just a solo artist, but one of the most important figures in the Buenos Aires independent music scene with her debut album Ubicación en Tiempo Real

The 7-track album may be concise by LP standards, but it feels massive in its scope and confidence; it blows the doors wide open and demands loudly to be heard, with an impressive collection of sharply melodic tunes and vivid performances. A power-pop album at heart, it’s chockfull of guitars and swirling synth passages that accompany Recanati’s vocals, which themselves go from righteously ferocious to playful to mournful in a way that recalls a certain big-haired, makeup-wearing English frontman. With stunners like the maddeningly catchy “Que No,” the icy dream-pop lament of “Los Días Que No Estás” (featuring Paula Trama of Los Besos) and the dramatic guitar whirlwind of “En La Frente,” Ubicación en Tiempo Real confidently asserts itself as one of the most impressive releases the local scene has yielded in recent memory.

Blanco Teta – Incendiada

Clocking in at just a little over 10 minutes, Incendiada seems dead-set on seducing you, then then mercilessly butchering you in an alley. This new release by the noise/art-rock quartet takes a fiercer route by upping the levels of abrasiveness, atmosphere, and groove, topping things off with a clean and slick production sound. The EP opens with the title track, a song featuring sinuous string arrangements that feel like a pair of oval-shaped amphibian eyes are laying their gaze on you, slithering behind your back, and then showing its true colors as the hook arrives, Josefina’s guttural screams stabbing through ascending and menacing violoncello strings. It serves as a fitting statement for the whole record: we take no prisoners.

Our slow descent into madness is further soundtracked by songs like “Yanina” and “Cajeta Stereo,” which fall between towering nightmare soundscapes and succinct claustrophobic horror suites. “Nelliti” stutters through off-beat drums and bass lines, while “Merci Bocu” cracks its knuckles as it waits around the corner; the hellish closing track features Carola Zelaschi’s drumming and Carlos’s driving bass working to deliver a relentless sendoff that’s sure to get you grooving hard and make you wonder if you’re unwittingly participating in some sort of demonic ritual. Incendiada roughly translates to “torched,” and after such a fiery barrage of tracks, that adjective falls just short of describing what you’re getting into. You’ve been warned.

Chris Limbs – Stranger

So much of Chris Limbs’ excellent new album Stranger sounds like fortuitously timed transmissions crackling in from distant radio towers, the signals butting up against each other and competing to take over the receiver. From the more conventionally-structured tunes to the brief instrumental interludes that pop out throughout, there’s a real sense of unpredictability to the album’s sonic quality — you never know when a melodic synth hook is going to be interrupted by a sudden burst of glitchy percussion. This makes Stranger all the more compelling to listen to. It’s a testament to Limbs’s compositional and arrangement prowess that a piece of music that could easily come off as synthetic patchwork instead feels so effortless, natural, and emotive. 

Though hailing from the East Coast of the United States, Limbs is no stranger to the Buenos Aires music scene; he’s been writing and performing here for over six years, most notably with his dream-pop band Fervors. This solo outing (which includes collaborations with Violenta Josefina as well as Fervors bandmates Don’t Kill the Weak and w.a.n.t.o.n) was written during a temporary exile after being denied entry into Argentina last year. As a result, this brilliant collection of songs is underlined by a certain poignancy, the quest for aural beauty amplified by the melancholy of displacement, and the burning desire to return home.   

Club de Haters – La Catástrofe Es Universal

It’s hard to pin down just what it is about Club de Haters’s debut self-titled EP that is so compelling. Is it the buoyancy of the instrumental performances? Is it the soothingly laid-back vocal delivery? Is it the unassuming simplicity of its songwriting? Is it the way it manages to sound both familiar and refreshingly new? Is it the frank candor of its confessional lyrics? Is it the truly excellent band name? Or is it the adorable cartoon depiction of the band on the album cover? It’s probably all these things and more.

It’s easy to pick up on the musical similarities to existing groups, even groups within the Argentine independent scene — most people would probably draw an immediate comparison with Las Ligas Menores, whose own brand of wistful indie rock coupled with languid female vocals has taken the local scene by storm. But there’s more to Club de Haters than a soundalike; the band’s use of slow swelling synth on songs such as “Tu Mente te Miente,” the shoegazey guitar attack that opens the lovely “Buena Suerte,” and the acoustic lullaby confession of “Quiero Estar Entre Tus Cosas” are among the things that set this band apart as their own distinct thing. Their songs may be simple on a compositional level, but they’re also honest and heartfelt, and — most importantly — they sound so good. A fantastic start by this Trelew Chubut group we’ll be keeping an eye on.

DDM – Anarkoplant

DDM dropped their blistering debut album Anarkoplant in late February off the back of a successful run in the 3rd edition of San Isidro Te Escucha. However, they’ve destroyed the pre-conceptions of kitschy, uninspired music which tends to go hand in hand with these sorts of arrangements. Instead they’ve set themselves apart from most music contest winners by delivering a collection of tight tracks which evoke a range of vibes from ethereal psychedelic highs to vicious balls-to-the-wall throat-ripping rockers.

DDM has been together since 2017 and it’s a shame that we hadn’t stumbled onto their work earlier because this group have truly created something that will scratch the itch of any post-rock fan. Tracks like “Garúa” plod away with syncopated drumming giving way to emotive finger picking, and “Azúcar Ledesma”‘s riff heavy instrumentation and teeth-gritting mosh goodness, breaking down into an epic drum climax that’ll leave you staring with your mouth agape. Additionally be prepared for the unexpected sounds of “Mi Otro Tu” which seamlessly fits in within the confines of this 7 track offering, providing you with a respite from the onslaught with its sparse instrumentation and howling vocals reminiscent of Kid A era Radiohead. DDM has a bright future ahead; let’s just hope to see more of this group sooner, rather than later. 

Emily And – Alquimia

US-born, Buenos Aires-based singer-songwriter Emily And has a lot of quirks. Allow us to list some of them: a singing style that oscillates effortlessly from brattily punky to grand and operatic; a penchant for lyrics that switch between English and Spanish, seemingly at random; a range of songs that go from snakily tricky and full of off-kilter chord progressions to unassumingly simple and straightforward; an uncanny ability to let her audience into her various emotional realities; and an unguarded approach to sharing her creative process via projects such as 100 Songs in 100 Days or spur-of-the-moment EPs (see Ups! No Pude Aguantar la Manija, an EP that was written and recorded during a health-induced exile last year, and Covid-19, an EP that was written and recorded during a health-induced exile this year — later expanded into the album “Mom, Are You a Robot?” y Otras Dudas Falopas Existenciales de Cuarentena). 

Yes, another one of her quirks is her wild prolificness, which is why during the recording process for an upcoming full-band album she also banged out Alquimia, a 9-song guitar-and-vocals solo album that feels like another peek into the state of mind of an emotional refugee. The stage is set by the opening sort-of-title-track “Alchemy,” which consists mostly of two chords and a sneering vocal performance about “feeling nothing”; the subsequent tracks call its bluff, asserting that oh no, Emily And is in fact feeling a lot of things. From meditations on conversational pratfalls (“Perdón, Soy Re Boluda”) to a mental health to-do list (“Ni Miedos Ni Nimiedades”) and the prettiest bilingual folk song you’ll ever hear (“Happy Little Trees”), Alquimia shows Emily And in her purest form: a little funny, a little sad, a little happy, a little mad, and unflinchingly real as ever.

Fin Del Mundo – Fin Del Mundo

The four-track EP Fin del Mundo is the debut release by the band of the same name, based in Buenos Aires, with members hailing from the Southernmost reaches of Patagonia. It forms part of the catalogue of Anomalía Ediciones, an inter-Latin American record label/collective that works with bands that fall loosely under (or in the case of Fin del Mundo, somewhere nearby) the genre known as math rock. The four-piece group, all of whom are women, includes two members of the now-defunct band Boedo, and the evolution from that previous project is evident in the EP’s sound. This release represents the culmination of many years spent seeking and honing a specific sound and emotionality, meticulously crafted through the expert employment of guitar pedals and lyrical motifs (one of the songs features poetry by Alejandra Pizarnik), and painstakingly structured songs that exploit the power of dynamic to its full potential.

It’s the end of the world as you’ve known it; the past is gone, the future doesn’t exist. Everything you’ve lived was a dream. And the present? A free-fall through a vacuum of nostalgia. But it’s okay, everything’s okay. Everything is beautiful. Take a listen. Close your eyes, and let the music move through you. Don’t think about what will or won’t be there when you open them.

GULI – S.N.E.S. (Singles No Editados en Sincro), Vol. 1

Agustin Bucich’s solo project GULI has never shied away from getting weird. On albums like Hanganga, Waiata, and Yate, his funk leanings have always been somewhat offset for his penchant for the esoteric, and there have always been tracks in his discography that are addictingly compelling by virtue of how left-of-center they are. But his new album S.N.E.S. (Singles No Editados En Sincro), Vol.1 sees him reach new levels of abstraction and mad-scientist sonic weirdness, incorporating a harder-edged approach to his serpentine, jagged pop songwriting. And though the album is still very identifiably GULI, it does feel like he’s at his most unconstrained and creative. 

The first few moments of the album, with opener (and sort-of-title-track) “SNES” immediately makes the album’s intentions clear, with pitch-shifted “lalala”s punctuation chunky stopstutter chords and lyrics about 16-bit nostalgia. Later on, there are songs that incorporate the sounds of chiptune (“NIVEL: DIFICIL”), synthwave (“EL MOMENTO”) and even punk rock (“BIT BROS”). The music of GULI has always sounded like someone having an enormous amount of fun by trying a bunch of things out. This blast of an album only takes that approach one  step further.

Hijo Único – Lichtenstein

Your wine glass is tumbling from your hand, a snake is falling from the ceiling, and your reflection is on fire, causing black smoke to billow from your mirror. These apocalyptic images sear the album art of Lichtenstein, the second 6-song “full-length” album by the enigmatic Hijo Unico. But there is no dread here. Instead, there is playfulness and light, an irreverence for time and space that might just be the perfect antidote for the existential crisis (or possible ego death) that is plaguing the tapadisco’s protagonist. 

On album opener “Gomul,” the distorted noodlings of a mariachi band in space give way to roaming desertic psychedelia. This is followed by the effortless “Subiendo,” which brings a slightly more avant-garde approach to the loungey pop stylings that we’ve been saturated with as of late. In “Si me ves” the band gives a subtle send-up to bands like The Sea & Cake & Stereolab, before dipping into “Orgon,” where the baroque pop flute arrangements could have been easily pulled straight out of late 60s sunshine pop or early 70s Library Music. The band keeps things Kenny-Loggins-smooth with “Ecstatica,” a sunny morning song with just the right amount of groovy sax arrangements to keep your attention. The album ends on a high note with Van Haasan, whose R&B vibe is peppered with hooks, from the heavily distorted picked guitar picking  to the call and response choruses. 

Some might complain that the songs are too short, that the album ends too soon. This reviewer found that its seamless transitions made the album perfect to listen on loop — time is but an illusion, after all,

Inés Errandonea – La Vida Real

Montevideo-born, Buenos Aires-residing singer-songwriter Ines Errandonea blew us away over and over again throughout the course of 2020 with a string of exquisite single releases, including the gorgeous ballad “La Moneda” and the raucous rocker “Circulo”– all leading up to her debut full-length album. We don’t want to drop any names, but over the years we’ve definitely been faced with the situation of albums not living up to their preceding singles. We are pleased to announce that Errandonea’s album La Vida Real is not one of those albums. In fact, it’s downright incredible, and one of the best debut albums in recent memory.

Mostly acoustic-based and rooted in a folk aesthetic, the album is an aural delight, lushly orchestrated and filled with impressive performances by Errandonea and her ensemble. There are jazzy passages, there are moments that approach rock and roll, there are ballads that incorporate autochthonous Latin American rhythms. At the heart of it is Errandonea’s thoughtful songwriting and skillful voice. There’s joy at every turn in the album — even in its more anguished songs, you can just feel the joy in creation evident in the performances. An absolutely beautiful album.

Isla Mujeres – Secreto

There is an ocean of feeling surrounding Isla Mujeres’ latest full-length release, Secreto. After just a few seconds of the watery beats and glimmering synth pads on opening track “Mi nombre,” the listener is submerged in the indigo mood of the song’s creators, caressed by the unaffected, somewhat robotic intonations of the doubled lead vocals and subtle harmonies. But were we to assume that we have arrived at our final destination for the rest of the record — after all, this would be a pleasant place for any band to linger — we’d be happily mistaken. The band takes each of the ten songs as an opportunity to create a new mood and moment, but with a sonic mise en scène that always remains their own.

From the sultry rap of “Yo Me Perderé” to the echoing vocals in the chorus of “Color”, Isla Mujeres handles their disparate influences with a light touch that never fails to hit their mark.  Other highlights: the clubby and sensual “Comiendonos,” the Strokes-esque “Desordenar,”and the shapeshifting, post-punk meets chillwave closer “Problema.” It’s been three years since the last album by the La Plata 4-piece pop act, but it’s proven worth the wait. Don’t hesitate and dive into Secreto’s depths — there are many treasures waiting to be discovered here.

La Fuerza Robada – Incendio Privado

La Fuerza Robada’s debut is a pleasant blend of traditional dream-pop / indie-rock with dashes of angular math-rocky songwriting. This all makes sense once we dive into composer Jay Averbuj’s screamo background with his band Lost Hope. Incendio Privado manages to carry all the oomph of such a genre while still making use of chorus-drenched guitarwork and ever-changing drum effects throughout the whole record. Not only is the production rich and nuanced, but there’s also a conceptual thread running through the album. The opening duo of “Oyasumi” and “Aokigahara” both portray a world suspended in a time right before a massive catastrophe strikes. The second act is kicked-off by “La Respuesta Que Nunca Llega” (a single we featured at the time of its release) and it presents us with the previously mentioned cataclysm unfolding before our eyes. Finally, there’s the very last act which has us looking at the ashen remains of the old world and trying to make sense of the new one. 

With snappy bass grooves and special attention to catchy and melancholic melodies, La Fuerza Robada is a strong debut which, despite displaying some of indie-rock’s most common sensibilities, brings something fresh to the table. We are eager to see what comes next and are betting on some live shows next year. 

Las Cosas Que Pasan – Deepfake

Part of Mendoza’s “manso indie” scene, Leandro Pezzutti’s Las Cosas Que Pasan has been consistently surprising us with their evolution through each release. After the lo-fi nuggets of their eponymous 2015 mini-album and the neo-grunge epic of Fundir Todo in 2018, Deepfake indulges the group’s poppier side without abandoning their penchant for psychedelia. Taking its name from the AI technique used to manipulate media, the album puts a familiar face on a different body – distorted guitars are backed by atmospheric synth pads, vocals are brought to the fore, and lyrics are way more straightforward. This is especially evident on the singles “Limón y Mayonesa” and “Te Extrañé,” whose radio-friendly pop sounds reveal the main premise behind the album: when it comes to art, fake can be just as good.

Maria Codino –  Ese Fragmento Velado

2020 gave us fantastic one-offs, remixed albums, and emerging solo acts, but it was this 5-song EP by Maria Codino (the frontwoman of De Incendios) that stole our bleeding hearts. It swept us up in melancholic electro-pop sweetness: the perfect blend of hair stroking intimacy mixed with looping synths and handclap rhythms.

“Las Flores Violetas” held our hand in the darkest of our quarantined days to remind us that both indie rock and shit communication is a commonality amongst all. With understated guitar and the sugared sultriness of Codino’s voice we felt comforted as we waited for “Loop en Mi” to shake us up. This we played, loud, on repeat as we pedaled away angst with its 80s drumbeat reverbs over layers of languid pedaled guitars looping over and over. We became addicted to that loop— a comforting, addicting dose of downward spiraling. But we no sooner fell completely apart with “No te olvides de mi.” It’s echoed melodies, glittery guitar over the sounds of falling rain and distant thunder felt too close. The brutal lyrics that begged us to hold a body or a name of someone that used to mean something sacred whittled us bare. But luckily the EP’s most playful tune “Quien Sos” came next to numb us, computertize our emotions, and remind us that really it’s all bullshit anyway — social media, the technological minefield we live in, the true perception of ourselves and others. With its robotic edges we transitioned smoothly into the synth filled title track to regulate us back to our normal states of pandemic anxiety.

In 2020 we let Maria Codino’s solo project (partially self-recorded in her home studio) swaddle us in our time of need, as her softness lulled us back to life.

Moy – Búnker Hoy?

Stop the presses and alert all music media: Córdoba band Moy may have released the perfect pop-rock EP. By examining the contents of their latest release Búnker Hoy we might be able to figure out just how they accomplished this, and backwards-engineer our way to indie glory. Part of the equation is, evidently, the length: at 3 songs clocking in just over eight minutes, the group doesn’t give themselves a lot of room for error, and all three tunes in this are absolute bangers. The lesson is clear: trim the fat, keep only the winners. Another important step: write insanely hooky pop melodies. Don’t let a moment go by where you’re not introducing a sonic element that burrows its way into listeners’ subconscious and compels them to play the song back immediately after it’s done. This may feel like a no-brainer, but you have no idea how many people forget to do it.

When it comes time to consider the actual tonal color of the album, go for the flowery stuff. Splashes of synth, swirly guitar arpeggios, maybe a few backwards keyboard parts for good measure. Cover everything in a hazy glaze of sweetness; swells of dreamy and elaborate backing vocals accomplish this very well (see the chorus to “Ya Fue” for a great example). Stay away from harshness and dissonance; these things have their place, of course, but they don’t quite jive with the vibe we’re creating here. This is all dusted-petal pretty. And if you feel like your opening two songs are a little too studio-slick, close things out with a live feel, with a song that brings reggae elements to Andean folk melodies. And throw in a melodica for good measure. An auspicious debut for this young band. 

Penny Peligro – La Fuerza Suave

Penny Peligro’s new album La Fuerza Suave feels very much like a maturation of her sound in every way, Though still anchored by her very characteristic voice and songwriting style — it is unmistakably a Penny Peligro album — it benefits greatly from both an expanded sonic palette and a richer and more nuanced songwriting style, featuring confident performances from Peligro and her band. 

Preceded by the power-pop singalong of “Ropa Vieja,” the album expands on all the things that made Penny Peligro so compelling in her previous releases (in the case of “Chico de Isla,” it does so quite literally, taking a one-minute acoustic song-sketch from her EP Amor En Tiempo De Macrisis and turning it into a full-band performance that would feel at home on a Sarah Records comp). I love the repeated references to Christmas and New Years on the songs here — it almost makes La Fuerza Suave feel a bit like a Christmas album. At the end of this horrific year, this is the type of sweet-hearted treat we all deserve.

Reina & el Príncipe Heredero – Reina & el Príncipe Heredero

Reina & el Príncipe Heredero, the collaborative project of Reina Ledesma with Joaquín Fernández, has truly been my soundtrack for 2020, offering a relaxing soulful respite from the stress of the past year. I raved about the strength of their single “Porno Soft,” a welcome mix between 80s-influenced synthwave/city pop with rhythmic funky strums and energetic pulses. But this is no one-track wonder; there are several equally strong tunes sprinkled throughout this tightly collated collection.

The album opens with the very spacey, fittingly titled “
Cosmic Ray”; following this, you’re swiftly pulled to the coastal beaches with the gentle finger picking and bongos that greet you in “Pinamar”. The group then pulls a U-turn back to a crescendo by closing with their trip-hop inspired cover of “D-Espacio,” which features aggressive kick drums supporting each individual component as it’s slowly added into this cocktail shaker of haunting rhythms fading into the sounds of nature. 

What first drew my interest was the tone of Ledesma’s vocals, which had a markedly neo-soul, r’n’b vibe while also on occasion drawing back into breathy whispers. Meanwhile the instrumentation provides a wide scope and space to lean into different neighboring genres, leaving each track feeling as unique as the last but fitting together as a single cohesive unit. 

Sergio Verdinelli – No Me Digas Loco

Sergio Verdinelli is a name that will sound familiar to long-time followers of rock nacional; not only was he Luis Alberto Spinetta’s longtime drummer, but he also played with other notable names like Fito Paez and Illya Kuryaki and the Valderramas and many others. Aside from his work in the Argentine rock world, he’s also an established name in the jazz scene, working with both local and international acts as a sideman as well as releasing his own albums as a bandleader. His latest release No Me Digas Loco comes to us as a co-release between American label ears&eyes Records and Argentine label Twitin’ Records, and it is a stunner.

This piano-based album is a perfect late-afternoon wind-down listen; the gorgeous title track sets a thoughtful and somber mood that will run for much of the album, with breezy and beautifully effortless performances from the trio of Verdinelli, Ernesto Jodos (piano) and Mauricio Dawid (bass). The color palette here is decidedly sepia, with occasional splashes of color thrown in, such as the bouncy “Me Haces Susurrar” and the criminally groovy “Keith Berry”. Verdinelli’s bona fides in the local and international scenes run deep, and his talents as composer and performer are on full display in this beautiful collection. La La Lista was proud to host this album’s exclusive premiere on our site, so check it out here.

Telescopios – Telescopios

Let me preface this by saying I don’t really dance. I just don’t like it (mostly because I consider myself to be terrible at it) and I try to avoid it whenever possible. Incredibly enough, some kind of miracle happened during the concise 19 minutes that make up Telescopios’ eponymous third album, as I found myself yearning to shamelessly move my body in the comfort of my own living room. While not a dance record per sé, the album’s fractured, funky feel strikes the perfect balance between dance floor-friendly numbers (“Te Están Pasando”) and more introspective alternative R&B sounds (“Que Te Vean”). Unlike its predecessor, 2018’s cerebral Doble de Riesgo, Telescopios ditches the heavy-handed production values that dominated their previous effort, adopting a leaner, more minimalist approach to songwriting.

Despite its sonic restraint, the album is rich in textures and hooks, rewarding the listener and revealing new layers after each listen. If we’re talking highlights, we could say the cameos by Bandalos Chinos’ Goyo Degano (“Hyper Haters”) and Candelaria Zamar (“La Idea”) perfectly fit the band’s newfound sound, providing a different color to the album’s palette. All in all, Telescopios is a collection of solid, cohesive-sounding songs, a polaroid of a band at the peak of their powers, striving to move into the debilitated Argentine mainstream.

Weste – Abanico

The fridge is full and you have a world of opportunities in front of you. You’re thinking Rio-Platenese, a duo of Argentine and Uruguayan flavors. You want something that’s both familiar and completely new — digestible but spicy. So you mix a little bit of everything: a dash of salsa, a heavy slab of varied traditional folklore, and a good measure of lo fi. When you really bite into it there will be horns, a type of indistinguishable whistle, a real mix of folk influences, and lots of of hip-hop. It won’t come on strong, but the intricate compositions of Igna Peréz and seductive voice of Clara Trucco will have you licking those lips the whole way through. 

The opening track “Polvo” starts you off with slot machines that transition into a salsa, that later take on the ambiance of a Japanese garden. It’s the fusion of different backgrounds, the experimentation of genres that sets this album apart. “Tinta,” seduces us with its mix of horns and steady drumbeat and we’re reminded that each experience can only happen once in a lifetime. As such we allow ourselves a good long slow grind. “Quisiera” on the other hand is much more innocent, like a beautiful mantra whose repetitive lyrics lays the base for the playground of sounds that find their way into the track — from violins to a lot of synthy twinkling. The final track “Filo” leaves our mouth open with its jazzy layers, salivating for more. Best paired with a good long drive or the come down of a party when everyone’s feeling a little droopy and can adequately swallow this one down.