Sometimes, an album lands on your playlist and feels like a snapshot of a place you’ve never been but somehow know by heart. That’s Spoken Portrait, the new five-track EP from bilingual rock band CIONICO, released under their own label, CIONICO R3CORDS. 

photo by CIONICO

CIONICO is a band that accidentally found a time machine and decided not to return to any one specific moment. Their music is a fusion of times, places, and states of mind. There’s nostalgia for the 2000s indie rock, the kind of era when we all thought Arcade Fire and Interpol would change the world. But there’s also a clearly audible rhythm of the present—those programmed beats that make you realize this is music from 2025. The band plays as one raw, electric nerve. There’s something about these guys that instantly grabs you.

It’s interesting that Spoken Portrait doesn’t try to please everyone right away. Because there’s something intimate, almost brazen in its closed-off nature. For example, in one of the songs (I’m intentionally not naming the track so you can hear it for yourself), the guitar sounds completely exposed, raw.

Leo Rojo sings as if he’s telling you something he should have said a long time ago but somehow couldn’t. His voice isn’t perfect, and that’s what makes it beautiful. Wade Torres is a poet on guitar; he writes a letter, but instead of words, there are chords. And the bass lines from Gerardo Pérez Giusti—those are almost a physical sensation, the kind of sound you feel in your chest. And then there’s Oscar Balza. Honestly, I don’t know how this person plays drums, programs beats, and still manages to harmonize. But he masterfully keeps the rhythm; it’s like he’s injecting energy straight into the fabric of the music. 

Spoken Portrait opens with Higher — a track that hits hard right from the start. Honestly, you won’t be able to resist. The intro sounds as a well-oiled machine, with every movement perfectly calibrated but still breathing with soul. The guitar riff leads the way, the keys cast light spots, and the electronic accents make everything even bolder. The drums? They control the entire process with a kind of menacing precision. Higher is that track that literally makes your body move, whether you want it to or not. 

photo by S I R – K E N C E L L I

In All Of Me, CIONICO seems to give you a moment to breathe, but not to relax. Here, Leo Rojo’s vocals become more vulnerable, almost confessional. You start to realize that this guy feels like he’s talking directly to you, without any unnecessary embellishments. The guitars are heavier here, but not aggressive — they create just the right kind of shine that makes the song cinematic. Plus, it’s the perfect track for a nighttime drive down an empty highway, with nothing ahead but the dark road and the headlights. 

But Everything’s Alright — that’s an invitation to a party. But not a loud one with endless dancing; it’s the kind where you stand on the balcony, look at the city, and feel that strange, pleasant sadness. The subtle melancholy in this track works like magic. You’re almost floating: heavy, confident guitars lead you, while the synthesizers add a melancholic trail. The rhythm of the drums is so gripping that it feels like your pulse starts to sync with it. 

In “I’ll Wait,” Leo’s vocals dissolve into the arrangement. And even though he seems close, you feel a distance, as if he’s singing from another dimension. Here, electronics come to the forefront, but they do so with grace, never overshadowing the rock foundation. This track is the perfect soundtrack for those moments when reality suddenly feels distant and insignificant. 

And just when you think you know where everything is heading, Miss You arrives. This track is pure catharsis. It starts softly, almost imperceptibly, with ambient textures and melancholic chords. But then it unfolds into something entirely different: deep, rich, and emotionally precise. Leo’s vocals here sound like they become your inner voice. You feel every sigh, every ounce of emotion he pours into the lyrics. And when the track transitions into a soft ballad, you realize that this entire journey has been leading to this moment. 

But you know what’s the strangest part? This EP feels almost too short. It’s like an engraving on glass: you see the lines, feel the texture, but can’t fully grasp what it means. And that’s the magic of it. Spoken Portrait has this mysterious incompleteness, like a painting that the artist never finished, but somehow it’s all the more compelling because of it. 

I don’t know how popular this release will become, but I know for sure that those who seek good, quality, mature music will undoubtedly be satisfied with what CIONICO has prepared for them. Because it’s albums like these that stay with you—not because they’re perfect, but because they’re real. And in a time when so much of what we hear feels engineered for playlists, packaged to fit neatly into algorithms and curated by bots, it’s refreshing to encounter something that feels like it was made to live with you, to grow alongside you. With AI-generated music becoming more ubiquitous by the day, and its presence only set to increase, it’s moments like this that remind us of the power of the human touch—the messiness, the imperfections, the soul that can’t be replicated. The question isn’t whether this album will find an audience—it’s whether the audience is ready to find it.

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