Collusion of tracks: the regions; the colours; their unlimited ability for self-reproduction.
Nobody knows what happened to the first incautious fellow that nitrated glycerol, but you can still visit the crater. There are certain elements that should be mixed under carefully controlled conditions, as they result in highly unstable components with a penchant for chain reactions.
But it had happened. The recording sessions... What?... No, I don't know what "Sopas" you're babbling about... So, the recording sessions paved the way for the combination of two elements that, to be honest, were not quite inocuous by themselves, but that could harbour a devastating potential when mixed: Pablo's guitar and Germán's studio.
Go on. Start recording elusive ideas; you'll see how endless guitar tracks begin to pile up. They're jumping tracks, thick tracks, playful and bashful tracks, coarse, dense, wild, wicked, seductive, innocent and caffeinated tracks. Track 1.423 is perfect for your petit bourgeoise depression. Track 568 will call the spirit of Don Juan into your body, there won't be a safe woman in a ten mile radius. Track 339 will induce a reflective melancholy, it may be the one you need to finish your titilating philosophy treatise. Track 15 wil make you dance, have no doubt, your feet will get in motion without prior consultation with your brain.
There they were, being punctiliously recorded, stored with neutral names like "gt_038". There they were, biding their time. Some tried to mix themselves on the sly, without a trace of human intervention. Others began to shine like natural born leaders, elbowing their way into the spotlight. They were like corn seeds in a hot pan exploding into pop corn and pushing the lid to attain freedom: constant, unstoppable, relentless.