Dub is like rubber. A chewy, sticky mass that releases a strange aroma when you handle it—a mix of incense, ganja, and grilled meat that dazzles, intoxicates, comforts, and clings to every pore of your skin as you shape octopuses with infinite tentacles. Or perhaps you only imagine them, surrounding you, embracing you, inviting you to stay inside forever. Just as you’d want to stay inside Goma, the debut album by the STA collective for Humo.

Thirty minutes of delicious dub that could feel like 60, seem like 90, or at times only 10. Time itself becomes elastic under the intoxicating wafts of this viscous substance. Goma is crafted with the wisdom of an alchemist, the fruit of a 15-year trajectory led by two Barcelona-based Argentinians, Pablo (Pope) and Holy, along with a host of restless musicians who have passed through the various incarnations of Dub Corao, Strandius, and now STA. An adventure inspired by the sweet, hypnotic cadence of reggae and its evocative warmth, but also by boundless curiosity, imagination, and audacity.

For those in need of labels, Goma is proudly a dub record; but above all, it is an utterly delicious sensory pleasure, flowing with such natural ease that it seems effortless for its creators. Here lies STA’s greatness: making the difficult seem simple, delivering a meticulously produced, edited, and mixed musical indulgence, rich with details to uncover through addictive listens. Special mention goes to the fascinating textural treatment of the guitars, evoking anything from spaghetti westerns to the sonic amoebas of Can, or the sharp edges of PIL; or maybe it’s the synthesizers. I don’t know—the rubbery aroma is clouding my mind…

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