So far, though, we've only had glimpses of Piñeyro's polychrome world. His debut album, christening Naples' new Incienso label, helps fill in the picture. It's part of his DJ Python project, whose "deep reggaeton" style pairs lilting low-tempo syncopations with dreamy synth work. Dulce Compañia turns what might have been a gimmick into a rich, self-contained world (the title, meaning "sweet company," calls to mind the feel-good house parties described in Max Pearl's Breaking Through feature on Piñeyro).
In places the melancholy finds a solid dance floor basis. Rat-tat-tat snares seem to be warming up on opener "Las Palmas," paradiddling around twinkling chords. The beat in "Todo Era Azul (Versión Afuera)" is positively chunky, its funk amplified by a finely diced think break. (This isn't the album's only sneaky breakbeat; Piñeyro can't quite shed that fascination). The drums seduce the body circa 110 BPM while the mind is free to follow chords that drift like autumn leaves. Elsewhere the music becomes increasingly weightless. At its floatiest it's a kind of electronic shoegaze, as on the nine-minute, mirage-like "Acostados," or on "Yo Ran (Do)," where delay effects cause delicate melodies to unfurl in concentric swirls that almost engulf the mix.
All of these tracks are gorgeous, but the best ones find the keenest balance between dance and sweet stasis. "Esteban" is the simplest and most beautiful track, its drums a tick-tock jitter behind aching chords that would sound at home on Constellation Records. "Cuál" has a bit more energy in its loping kicks, but over time arps unfurl into an ever broader panorama. It's as if we're slowly zooming out on an ocean scene, until our original point of focus is just an indistinct speck in the vast and rippling blue.