Out of seemingly nowhere, Los Thuthanaka emerged onto the music scene last year, clinching the top spot on Pitchfork’s album of the year list with their self-titled debut. Despite its critical acclaim, many listeners missed out on it due to its absence on streaming platforms. I must admit, it slipped from my mind as well until the year-end list served as a reminder of its brilliance. The album is a sonic marvel, a jubilant and jagged experience that feels like it’s blasting from a faulty Bluetooth speaker in some distant backyard — it’s nothing short of spectacular.

Their subsequent EP, Wak’a, offers a shift in pace, dialing down the tempo and smoothing some of the raw edges of its predecessor. It draws from the same eclectic mix of blown-out speakers and traditional Bolivian instruments, blending elements of plunderphonics with psychedelic rock. Yet, Wak’a also nods to shoegaze, with wistful chord progressions and melodies, where guitars are awash with fuzz and reverb. Horns and keys weave through the mix like faint echoes of past songs, adding depth and intrigue.

Crafted by siblings Chuquimamani-Condori and Joshua Chuquimia Crampton, the EP is an auditory reimagining of the Aymara creation legend of the first sunrise, presented over three tracks that span just 18 and a half minutes. For those purchasing Wak’a on Bandcamp, a PDF accompanies the download, created in collaboration with Ch’ama Native Americas to narrate the legend in the Aymara language.

The EP fittingly evokes a world awakening from darkness. “Quta (capo-kullawada)” opens with a low synth drone and the ambient sound of chirping crickets, gradually building with a guitar melody reminiscent of Brian Eno and a distorted drum line. “Wara Wara (capo-kullawada)” strikes a beautiful yet haunting chord. The dense wall of sound is as overwhelming and surprising as the first piercing rays of sunlight might be to those who lived in perpetual night. It crescendos into a climactic apex, blending horns, keyboards, growling vocals, and asymmetrical guitars in a fiery, chaotic symphony.

In contrast, “Ay Kawkinpachasa? (capo-kullawada)” provides a soothing conclusion, though its intricate arrangement makes discerning individual instruments a challenge. Amidst the blend of what might be accordion, fiddle, and keys, stuttering guitars emerge, bringing the EP to a gentle end.

For listeners who found their debut a bit too harsh, Wak’a presents a more accessible entry into Los Thuthanaka’s distinct musical universe. This EP is now available on Bandcamp, inviting both new and returning listeners to explore its enchanting soundscape.