315: Bana Congo, by Papa Noel & Papi Oviedo

Papa Noel & Papi Oviedo (DR Congo/Cuba)
Bana Congo (2002)
10 tracks, 54 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

For countries more than 6000 miles apart, the musics of the Congo and Cuba have been intertwined for a long, long time. Kongo people made up a significant percentage of Africans trafficked to Cuba as slaves, and due to the system of cabildos – ethnic institutions where slaves were separated by place of origin – elements of their languages, religions and music survived and continued to be passed down, and eventually became part of the internationally-influenced sound of Cuban popular music, most strikingly in the omnipresent conga drums. Cuban music also made its mark on the music of the Congo in return – son and rumba provided the root sounds of Congolese rumba lingala that itself became the basis of genres such as soukous and kwassa kwassa that have ruled Congolese popular music for almost 70 years, not to mention all of the other Africa-wide styles that have derived thereof.

It’s a bit unusual, then, given the long give-and-take relationship of the two countries and the modern world music scene’s eternal fascination with cross-cultural collaborations, how few direct meetings of Congolese and Cuban musicians have been committed to disc. Even stranger when you get an album like this one, in which the two countries’ styles are brought together with such apparent ease to wonderful results.

Bana Congo is a meeting of stalwart members from two legendary bands: Papa Noel, singer and guitarist in Franco Luambo’s TPOK Jazz from DR Congo, and Papi Oviedo, tres player of Orchestra Revé, a key group in Cuba’s changüí style, and featuring an ensemble of musicians from both countries. Both artists come from spheres totally indebted to each other in terms of their roots, and their work together here sounds completely natural. It’s not possible to listen to this album and pick out ‘oh that bit is taken from the Cuban side of things, that bit is Congolese,’ the musicians have met on a totally equal footing, and each made their own style subsume into the other, layering and tying them together into one.

The whole thing is so obvious, but that’s in no way a negative thing. Every track makes me think ‘of course!’ Of course these tracks are great, and engaging, and danceworthy. No matter what the mood, whether the beautifully romantic ‘Juliana’ or the title-track with a groove so dapper it could join the sappeurs, it all works so well because it’s made by brilliant musicians who know how to make each other’s styles work for themselves. The only surprising thing about the album is that it didn’t happen earlier…and that there hasn’t been any other such high-profile collaborations since. Cuba and Congo together again; this album was 500 years in the making, of course it’s such an exciting and joyful listen.

188: Buena Vista Social Club, by Buena Vista Social Club

Buena Vista Social Club (Cuba)
Buena Vista Social Club (1997)
14 tracks, 60 minutes
Bandcamp ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes

If there is ever a case for naming a single legendary album of the world music era, surely Buena Vista Social Club must be it, or at least high in the running. Years ago, when Songlines magazine printed a world music chart based purely on record sales, this album was in the top ten every single month. That's impressive enough as it is before you take into account that this was more than 10 years after the record was first released, such was its awesome and enduring popularity.

So what is it? Quite a simple premise, actually: get a whole roomful of Cuba's greatest musicians and singers from yesteryear (many of whom had fallen into obscurity or given up music entirely) and get them to record one more album. Add some star-power in the form of American roots revivalist Ry Cooder that's, apparently, a recipe for success. As much as it is impossible to overstate Buena Vista Social Club's success, it's also hard to argue that it's not entirely deserved. A lot of the world's hugest (and especially the most unexpected) successes are somewhat dubious musically – and quite naturally, having to appeal, as they do, to the lowest common denominator across many different cultures internationally. This album defies that, and gloriously.

The music here is in the style of 1950s son (which would come to be known as salsa after its move to the US), but also including old-style boleros, trovas and cha-cha-chás. Perhaps reflecting the musicians' long and varied careers, there's also a lot of jazz influence in the sound, especially from Reubén González' piano. Every one of the songs on Buena Vista Social Club have become standard repertoire in Cuban music, and even in Spanish-language music around the world regardless of style. This can even be to a somewhat harmful degree: I've never been, but apparently it's quite impossible to traverse the streets of Havana without hearing enough versions of 'Chan Chan' as to never want to hear it again.

Buena Vista Social Club did amazing things for Cuban music on the international scene. As well as making huge – and very, very rich – stars of its musicians such as Ibrahim Ferrer, Compay Segundo, Reubén González, Omara Portuondo, Orlando 'Cachaíto' Lopez and Eliades Ochoa, it gave the world a real taste for Cuban music in both this old style and the new, which it continues to feel today. And with an album as perfect as this, that's not really too much of a surprise.

104: I Like It Like That, by Various Artists

Various Artists (USA/Cuba)
I Like It Like That (2008)
28 tracks, 133 minutes (2 CDs)
Spotify • iTunes (both of these links are to the first disc – the remixes – only.)

It’s come up a few times that I’m a fan of the bonus remix – especially when it comes as a whole separate album (see Matisyahu, Mongrel) but this album is an exact opposite sort of thing. Here, the remixes are the main event.

The first disc is a set of remixes; a big bunch of producers were let loose on the back catalogue of Fania Records, the legendary record label that became the home of all the best salsa artists over the years. With some big names on the levers and pulleys, such as Gilles Peterson, Louis Vega, Quantic and Bugz in the Attic, salsa hits from the 1960s and 1970s are transformed for 21st century dance floors.

Because each track has its own remixer, there are lots of different styles and approaches on offer, from the subtle reworking of Roberto Roena’s ‘Take Five’ by Nicola Conte to the full-on blips-and-bloops fest of Gilles Peterson and Simbad’s remix of ‘Saona’ by Noro Morales. There’s good ones and less good – the two mentioned are among the best of the 14. But, being my usual contrarian self, it’s once again Disc 2 that I always gravitate towards with this one. This disc contains all the original tracks that got the remix treatment on the first one. Those tracks are a great document of the development of salsa music in the US, evolving out of the son and rumba brought by Cuban immigrants, mixing with other Caribbean styles from Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic and then with various jazz and soul styles in centres such as New York City and Miami.

None of the remixes are bad – some of them are great – but it does seem a little bit strange to me to be creating dance music from tracks that are already perfectly crafted for dancing in the first place. Even just as a sampler for classic Fania Records repertoire, I Like It Like That does a really good job. Treat the remixes as a nice bonus – it makes more sense that way.

075: Ariwo, by Ariwo

Ariwo (Iran/Cuba)
Ariwo (2017)
4 tracks, 45 minutes
Bandcamp • Spotify • iTunes

By looking at the little (Iran/Cuba) up there, you might be expecting something different. I know I was when I first came across the group. I reckon I was thinking maybe salsa music with tar and daf, perhaps? I’m not sure, but it didn’t sound too promising. But Ariwo are nothing like that.

The band as they appear on this debut album are a trio of Cubans in percussionists Oreste Noda and Hammadi Valdes and jazz trumpeter Yelfris Valdes, together with Iranian producer and electronicist Pouya Ehsaei. When they make music together, it is a pulsating mix of electronica, traditional Afro-Cuban religious music and jazz. It’s downtempo and dark, and dubby in places. It’s very serious in its own way, profound even, but you can tell everyone’s having a great time of it. It all sounds so natural, helped by the ease at which the musicians interact.

Pouya’s drum programming mingles with the Latin percussion so smoothly as to eventually sound like it’s all from one tradition, and the synth-bass and other electronics make a perfect bed for both the jazz trumpet and Afro-Cuban chants. Then, on top of all that, it is all produced and treated with many delays, distortions, reverbs and other sonic refigurements to give everything the necessary amount of space, depth and intensity. It somehow manages to be both danceable and contemplative at once, although there are times where the balance shifts more to one end than the other. For a debut, Ariwo seems like such an accomplished work. There may only be four tracks, but you still get your album’s worth – nothing is rushed, the pieces all develop at their own pace, swelling and diminishing and changing course whenever it’s right but always with the same destination in mind.

Ariwo have their second album, Quasi, coming out next month – in fact, they have just announced today that it will be out on the 15th April. There's some changes: Canadian jazzer Jay Phelps steps into the role as trumpeter, and it also features Binker Golding as a guest on several tracks, who is one of my favourite saxophonists in the UK today. With two years of gigs, festivals and jams all over the world to let their sound percolate, I really can’t wait to hear what they’ve come up with.

054: ¡Ay Caramba!, by Ska Cubano

Ska Cubano (UK/Cuba/Jamaica/everywhere else)
¡Ay Caramba! (2005)
17 tracks, 60 minutes
Bandcamp · Spotify · iTunes

Maybe it’s a bit of an overexaggeration to say that this album directly led to me becoming a music writer, but not by much. The very first time I ever read a copy of Songlines Magazine, I stuck the free CD in the machine, pressed play and *BAAA BAAA BAM!* da da da da *BAAA BAAA BAM!*

Wow.

The first track on that sample CD was ‘Oye Compay Juan’ from this album, ¡Ay Caramba! by Ska Cubano. The stereo was turned up way too loud – or maybe the exactly correct volume - and those opening horn blasts and timbale runs went through me like electric. I devoured that magazine and haven’t really stopped since. And now I’m a writer. So there’s a link there somewhere, possibly.

Ska Cubano have such a simple idea, spelled out in their name – ska, but if it were Cuban – but it just works so well. It’s kind of amazing that it hadn’t been tried before…or if it had, it didn’t get anywhere near the traction of Ska Cubano. Add in hints of calypso, klezmer, cumbia and little bits of other stuff and you get this wonderfully infectious album. It’s all made by utterly top-class musicians, from the squealing clarinets to the jangly trés and the cheeky vocals of Beny Billy (Cuban, in Spanish) and Natty Bo (British, in English).

When you listen to this album, sitting still is impossible – it will electrify you just as it did me 14 (wtf) years ago. Get up and dance around till your head drops off.