By Mike Sain't Louis ·
A cuchillo, a lone figure looking at the city from the rock
A guy sitting on a rock, back to us, looking down. The cover of A cuchillo (To the Knife) is in black and white and has something of an old newspaper photograph about it: heavy clouds, the sea on the left breaking on the shore and, in the background, a city full of skyscrapers hugging the coast.
He doesn't look at the camera. His arms rest on his knees, dark hoodie and trainers, in the posture you adopt when you climb somewhere high to think or to get away from something. The city lies below, lit up, oblivious.
The title, in big worn letters, sounds like a cutting phrase, a no-holds-barred fight or a clean-cut decision. Next to such a still image, it creates a tension I really like: calm on the outside, an edge on the inside. What the song tells you'll find out when you press play. I recommend listening alone, without distractions, as if you were climbing onto that rock too.