360: Nu Yorica! Culture Clash in New York City, by Various Artists

Various Artists (Puerto Rico/USA)
Nu Yorica! Culture Clash in New York City (1996)
16 tracks, 109 minutes (2 CDs)
Spotify ∙ iTunes (Weirdly, the digital edition has a different tracklisting than the CD, so both versions contain some unique tracks. But they’re close enough for the purposes of this blog, at least.)

This is one of those compilations that paints such a vivid picture of a specific time and place that it just makes you want to jump into that world, smell its smells, meet its characters, behold their fashions and listen to as much music as you possibly can. And it does it all with 16 impeccably chosen tracks.

The album presents the music of the Latin Caribbean played in a way that could only have come together in a city such as New York, and only in the 1970s. It’s the result of Latinx people from all over the Americas living together, sharing their differences and revelling in their similarities, all the while making music inspired by every sound bouncing around the city at that time. Each track is grounded in Latin styles, whether that’s son, rumba, charanga, bachata, guarancha, the old Afro-Latin rhythms, or, more often than not, a combination of many together, and that is then taken off into flights of everything that was around at the time. There is lots and lots of funk and jazz in there, a few really strong disco elements and even some classical music in Eddie Palmieri’s piano playing on ‘Un Dia Bonita’.

And all of it has a complete lack of that cheesiness that I find inherent in so many Latin styles. The musicians here filter out all of that over-the-top dramatics with a sincerity that leaves only mean skill and pure energy – and without taking themselves too seriously to have fun, either. The outcome of this equation is just liquid coolness.

What a wonderful collection. When I’m listening to this album, there’s really nowhere else I’d rather be than in the late-night clubs of Nu Yorica with a whole load of dancing ahead of me. And if you turn up the music loud enough, close your eyes and let your body move its way, maybe that world doesn’t have to feel quite so far away.

340: Vengo, by Ana Tijoux

Ana Tijoux (Chile)
Vengo (2014)
17 tracks, 54 minutes
Bandcamp ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes

In rap, languages are all-important. If you’re not using language, you’re not rapping, you’re scatting. But there’s lots of languages, and they each have their own unique rhythms, melodies, structures and patterns inherent in them, meaning that some languages lend themselves to the technique of rap easier than others. I think this is probably a ‘your mileage may vary’ sort of thing based on your own personal aesthetic preferences and your ability to understand the actual lyrics being rapped. For example, I find German and Russian rap really unfulfilling in their flows, the syllables not really hitting my ear right. On the other hand, raps in Spanish and Arabic are delightful!

Which is one of the reasons why I love Ana Tijoux’s song ‘Somos Sur’ from her album Vengo so much. Tijoux is a Chilean rapper, born and raised in France before moving to Santiago de Chile as a teenager, where she learnt her chops on the mic. The Spanish language really suits her fairly staccato rap style, and then after a few verses, a treat: up steps Shadia Mansour, British-Palestinian singer and rapper giving a blistering verse in Arabic, filled with righteous anger and international solidarity among Tijoux’s anti-imperialist anthem. The two languages have very different aural profiles, but they sit together so well juxtaposed as raps on this absolute banger of a song.

The instrumental element of ‘Somos Sur’ is also top-notch, with reedy Latin saxophones and folkloric violins providing the main base alongside a driving beat, bass and squelchy, distorted synths, and with an elegant verse from Tijoux backed by a classical string quartet. The music across the whole album is similarly lush with diverse influences. You can tell it’s not going to be your standard hip-hop album when the very first track is opened by Andean quena flutes played in a traditional manner, over which the track’s groove is based around – it’s obvious that Tijoux set out to make a hip-hop album that could only have come from Chile.

Another thing that is genuinely impressive about Vengo is that it doesn’t contain any samples. All the sounds on this album were recorded specifically for it. The producers here aren’t constructing the music from various beds and layers taken from other tracks, they all act as arrangers, working with the musicians and piecing together each of the parts in a gloriously hands-on way.

The past 40 years have really made it clear that hip-hop – in all its elements of MCing, DJing, B-boying and graffiti – is a global language, but every language has its accents. With the mix of live sounds, Latin, indigenous and international influences, the amazing Arabic guest slot from Shadia Mansour and her own Spanish flows, Ana Tijoux’s hip-hop accent on Vengo is one of the most compelling around.

336: Abraxas, by Santana

Santana (Mexico/USA)
Abraxas (1970)
9 tracks, 38 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

I’ve talked before about the incredible fertility of rock music in the short period of the late-60s and early-70s, but I think Abraxas by Santana is a perfect example of this.

Abraxas is a classic rock album. It was huge at the time of release, and has been regarded as an important work ever since, frequently included in lists of best rock albums ever. But it’s so much more than ‘classic rock’ and all the images and associations that term conjures. That element is definitely there, yes, and seedlings of what would be ‘heavy rock’ can be heard occasionally throughout, but it’s far from the most noticeable aspect of the album. In fact, a defining feature of Abraxas is that it’s difficult to even fit it easily into the category of ‘rock’ at all.

It begins with ‘Singing Winds, Crying Beasts’, a moody and atmospheric instrumental piece with mysterious jazzy chords, a Latin rhythm and only a few glimpses of Carlos Santana’s wailing guitar among the waves of vibrating cymbals. That opening piece lasts for nearly five minutes and it’s a proper statement for what’s to come: whatever it will be, it’s not going to be what you’d expect. That piece segues into a cool version of Fleetwood Mac’s blues ‘Black Magic Woman’ and then into the Eastern European-influenced ‘Gypsy Queen’…and then it’s straight into a rocked-up but faithful version of Tito Puente’s cha-cha ‘Oye Como Va’. The next one, ‘Incident of Neshabur’ is a driving jazz-rock that sounds even Bitches Brew-like at times. And all that in just the first side! What a rollercoaster. The rest of the album also features the smooth jazz of ‘Samba Pa Ti’, the heavy metal premonition of ‘Hope You’re Feeling Better’ and ends up with the percussion-and-voice rumba of ‘El Nicoya’.

Holding it all together is, it almost goes without saying, a core of amazing musicians. The group themselves are so tight together that they can switch things up so often and know that everyone else on the band is going to be on the same page. Gregg Rolie’s keys are solid all the way through and his turns on the Hammond organ and electric piano really kick up the funk; the Latin percussion from José ‘Chepito’ Areas, Michael Carabello and Rico Reyes ground the whole album in a rhythmic basis that hadn’t – and still hasn’t, really – been explored in a rock realm but that fits it so well; and, of course, Carlos Santana’s lead guitar work that flits through the album’s many genres with ease, and really lets him stretch his muscles as an exciting and forward-thinking soloist.

You never know where you stand with Abraxas. Every track is different in its own way, but it all fits together in terms of the energy and atmosphere created and curated throughout the whole listening experience. That’s so rare; it’s an album that has the ability to surprise at every turn without making the whole endeavour feel like an exercise in wilful quirkiness. ‘Rock’ may be the wrong word and ‘Latin-blues-rock-prog-jazz’ is just stupid…but ‘classic’ is definitely the right word.

332: Tambolero, by Totó La Momposina

Totó La Momposina (Colombia)
Tambolero (1993/2015)
12 tracks, 52 minutes (2015 version)
Bandcamp ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes

Totó La Momposina is an icon of Colombian music, at home as well as abroad, and La Candela Viva – originally released in 1993 and re-mixed and remastered in 2015 as Tambolero – shows off exactly why she is so revered.

Before I heard this album, I hadn’t paid Latin music too much mind. I had some favourites, yes – I’ve talked about a few of them on this blog – but I usually thought of it as a pleasant diversion, a fun type of music in the moment, but rarely something I would hunt out to listen to specifically. Tambolero changed that for me. The depth of its roots was intoxicating, it feels like you can fall into Totó La Momposina’s music.

Totó’s is a traditional style that takes equal amounts from Spanish, African and Indigenous heritage, and that triumvirate of influences can be heard on every track to varying degrees. The pieces that knocked the breath out of me (and still do!) are the most stripped-back tracks, those featuring just Totó’s powerful voice leading an ensemble of drums and backing singers. ‘El Pescador’ is the perfect example. The rhythms of the drums and shakers could go back millennia in Africa or South America depending on which you pick up; the melody is mellow, sad and with a slight piquancy that could only come from Latin music; and then the group’s harmonies come in and they are utterly heartwrenching, building upon that sad melody in a way that reaches straight into the soul, using the same broad chords as heard throughout Amazonian and Andean music. ‘Gallinacito’ and ‘La Candela Viva’ are also wonderful songs in this same way. And then there are songs which are based around the kuisi or gaita paired flutes of the Indigenous Kogui people, and others that are based around cumbia and son but all have the same balance of influences to them.

Totó La Momposina’s music is saturated with the histories of three continents. When I listen to Tambolero, I hear thousands of years of culture from all over the world, all the different elements coalescing and doing their own thing before they are united in this very music. This album taught me to listen deeper and wider to Latin music, especially that of South America. Through Totó’s rootsy style, these pathways become clear and are illuminated – and with her beautiful voice echoing all the way.

325: Resiliencia, by Taína Asili

Taína Asili (Puerto Rico/USA)
Resiliencia (2019)
12 tracks, 54 minutes
Spotify ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes

The word that comes to mind to describe Taína Asili and Resiliencia is badass.

My first contact with both album and artist came at work, where I was supposed to give it a listen through and make sure it was suitable for inclusion in the magazine. I only actually listened to a few seconds. Not only could I immediately tell that we needed to feature it (it ended up getting a top review, so I felt pretty validated) , but I also knew that I didn’t want to listen to this album at work, it deserved a proper non-office-based rocking debut to my ears. Turns out: perfect music for a barbecue.

The music is punk in its outlook and a mix of everything danceable in its sound. It reflects Asili's upbringing as a cosmopolitan Puerto Rican in New York, and your limbs are just as likely to be moving to ska, reggae, hip-hop and rock here as they are to salsa, cumbia and reggaetón – there are even Indian moments and, on the track ‘Plant the Seed,’ a definite African swing that seems in the mid-point between Senegalese and Congolese flavours of rumba.

So it’s already fire just on the sound of it alone, but the lyrics are incredible. According to the album’s blurb, it is ‘inspired by stories of resilience Taína witnessed in interviews she conducted with women of color in various parts of the United States, Puerto Rico, and Canada over the course of several years.’ Along with Asili’s own experiences, the songs on this album are those women’s lives, their struggle, their power. She explores themes of solidarity, self-identity, empowerment, justice and that all-pervading resilience of women around the world. As well as bringing these women’s voices to her songs, she also allows them to speak for themselves – Asili is also a documentary film-maker, and is in the process of making a series of ‘music video documentaries,’ which are just what you’d expect, a cross between the both. Here’s the first, talking to farmer and food justice campaigner Leah Penniman alongside Asili’s song ‘Plant the Seed’:

To feature such incisive lyrics with important subjects, and to use her platform to advocate for others at the same time as making super-cool music that compels the body to get up and dance is a formidable set of skills. Taína Asili is an incredible force for good in music and beyond – keep an eye on that name. So badass.

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.

284: Pixvae, by Pixvae

Pixvae (France/Colombia)
Pixvae (2016)
8 tracks, 45 minutes
Bandcamp ∙ Spotify ∙ iTunes

There so many fusions, combinations and admixtures all across the world of music. We’ve considered a fair few on this blog, and there will be many more to come. Some fusions are incredibly effective and frequently successful due to many inherent and obvious similarities in their constructions – think jazz hip-hop or West African blues. Some take such wildly disparate styles, smush them together and fall flat on their face to the surprise of hardly anyone. And then you have fusions between musical genres that should never work, from very different times, places, and culture, but that end up creating mad, previously unthought-of mid-point that sounds so natural and potent you feel a fool for ever having doubted it.

To that end, stick Pixvae in your ears. Their music is Afro-Colombian math rock with a death metal jazz edge. The band is actually a six-piece collision of two groups, with guitar, drums and baritone sax/synths from the group Kouma and three voice and percussion from Bambazú. Why does it work? I don’t know, but it does.

The Colombian element is currulao, a style from the Pacific coast of the country. It is based on percussion polyrhythms and interconnected vocal lines that duck and dive over each other as well as making sweet harmonies. Having developed among the Afro-Colombian population, the music still retains a strong African vibe. In the original style, it is all held together with the marimba xylophone, but instead, in Pixvae, that place is filled by noise.

Great noise, mind. The ‘math’ element of the rock means that even more complex polyrhythms are added to those of the currulao, meaning at some points there can be three or four different beats going on at the same time, all shifting in and out of phase with each other. The guitar, saxophone and synths are very loud and all have their own rawness to them – the reedy honking of the sax, the overdriven distortion of the guitar, the sawtooth waves of the synth – but they still manage to add to the sound in a subtle way, mostly focusing on short and interesting riffs that loop around and around. Again, these riffs are usually of differing lengths but played simultaneously so that the effect is ever-shifting and evolving.

When both of these come together, they fit together in a really pleasing way. They don’t always fit together easily – there are lots of crunchy dissonances created in all of the different overlapping vocal and instrumental patterns – but the shifting nature of the melodic and rhythmic cycles mean that each piece contains waves of tension and release. Even the sweetness of the vocals against the noise of the instruments provide a juxtaposition that doesn’t need a resolution, they’re just two very different flavours that nevertheless combine perfectly, like chocolate and salt.

Afro-Colombian folk music and heavy math rock jazz seem too far removed to birth a successful fusion, but Pixvae found the elements that link them and exploit them to the grooviest ends. Maybe no musical fusion is too ambitious to work, perhaps it just needs the right musicians to find those connections. Pixvae do it in the most exciting way possible.


N.B. In my research for this album I came across the review in Songlines Magazine…and they gave it a one-star review! Bollocks to that. What do music journalists know anyway?!

210: Street Signs, by Ozomatli

Ozomatli (USA)
Street Signs (2004)
13 tracks, 52 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

I’m heading off to Boomtown festival in a couple of weeks and Ozomatli are right at the top of my must-see list. They are seriously one of the very best live bands I’ve ever seen – they can turn any occasion into a party within seconds of arriving on stage and it doesn’t let up until they’re leading the crowd on a massive samba from within. While their sound has evolved across their 24 years, their core has stayed basically consistent: Latin music of all colours (from salsa to cumbia to mariachi to the aforementioned samba) with a whole load of hip-hop in there and a good measure of rock, and usually with some pointed lyrics too. This is the real sound of Los Angeles.

When you have a band whose live shows are such a tour de force, it’s sometimes hard for their studio albums to live up to the same standard. That’s not a worry when it comes to Street Signs, although it does stick out as a little bit different from the rest of the group’s albums. It was Ozomatli’s third full length release out of (currently) eight studio albums, and it is by far their most ‘world music’ of offerings. Their first two (1998’s Ozomatli and 2001’s Embrace the Chaos) were much more focused on the Latin hip-hop thing, and afterward they went in a more good-time pop-rock direction. On Street Signs, though, they brought all sorts of stuff to the table, from Arabic sounds to Balkan brass, flamenco to Indian elements, and all without taking anything away from that classic Ozo sound.

This eclectic mix is also apparent in the amount and variety of guests on the album. There are so many: there’s featured artists such as Nuyorican salsa piano legend Eddie Palmieri, Los Lobos frontman David Hidalgo and baritone rapper and erstwhile Ozo member Chali 2na, but there’s also more subtle and less assuming guest slots for other stars in their own right such as Gnawa master Hassan Hakmoun and French Roma jazz group Les Yeux Noirs. Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan even gets a co-writer’s credit on ‘Believe’, although I’ve never been able to work out what for, exactly. Usually albums with a buttload of guests end up sounding stilted and try-hard, but not this one. Everyone just fits in where they’re supposed to, never take up too much room than necessary and just slot right into the Ozomatli party.

Because, for all its difference from the band’s other records, Street Signs still has that same atmosphere. Tracks such as ‘Saturday Night’ and ‘Street Signs’ are typical Ozo bangers with some amazing raps and blaring horns, but even when they do something different such as the brooding opener ‘Believe’ or Chali 2na’s Egyptian-flavoured guest number ‘Who’s to Blame’ have a suitably political message while all but requiring you to dance along.

Street Signs is Ozo’s most esoteric album of their career so far, but I still reckon it’s their best all-round set. But as good as it is, you don’t want to hear this coming out of your stereo speakers – you want to hear it all going on in front of you in all its sweaty, chaotic glory. Ozomatli: see them live at any cost; if you can’t, Street Signs is still as good a time as any.

196: LDA v the Lunatics, by Los de Abajo

Los de Abajo (Mexico)
LDA v the Lunatics (2005)
15 tracks, 65 minutes
Spotify ∙ iTunes

Before this album, Los de Abajo were seen as the kings and queen of ‘salsa punk,’ but on this album they took a bit of a change of direction. Salsa and punk are still very much in evidence, but so are ska, mariachi, cumbia, dub and mestizo music, all rolled up together. We’ve already seen that Latin music and ska are a potent mix with Ska Cubano, but Mexican music has a bit more of an edge to it, and I think that comes from their culture’s much stronger connection to their pre-Columbian heritage. It means that LDA’s music is a meeting of three different sound worlds, the Latin, the African and the Mesoamerican. They even sing in the indigenous language of Zapotec on the track ‘Tortuga Dub’.

What prompted LDA’s proliferation of styles? Probably a lot of things, I don’t know them personally. BUT I reckon a big part of the sound of this album comes from the producers, UK duo Temple of Sound. We’ve featured Temple of Sound quite a bit so far on this blog (and we’ll continue to throughout the year) although not in that name yet, I think. They are Neil Sparkes and Count Dubulah (nowadays known as Nick Page), founder members of Transglobal Underground whose music together was on the much more dubby side. The elements of their production can be heard all over LDA v the Lunatics, but they don’t steamroller it – every sound that they add is in harmony with the band’s groove, only serving to accentuate their musical message rather than turning it into something it’s not trying to be.

But enough of the deep-dive, what is it like?? Well…it’s a total party, of course. This is excellent music for no-thoughts-required hour-and-a-bit of revelry. Maybe my thoughts are influenced by the fact that I’m writing this on the evening of the hottest day of the year so far, but this is proper cider in the park music. Even when its themes are serious (‘Resistencia’, for example, features a speech by revolutionary Comandanta Esther), it doesn’t become dry, it just adds more passion to the music, and more fuel to the party fire. And then there’s just the straight up bangers like the two covers (one Spanish, one English) of Fun Boy Three’s ‘The Lunatics (Have Taken Over the Asylum)’ with guest spots from Dennis Rollins on trombone and FBT’s own Neville Staple.

I’m not sure there’s much more to say about this one without ruining it. Want a punky, dubby ska party that’s totally Mexican all the way through? Play this, loud.

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.

059: Fiesta Songs, by Señor Coconut and his Orchestra

Señor Coconut and His Orchestra (Germany/Denmark)
Fiesta Songs (2003)
11 tracks, 44 minutes
Bandcamp • Spotify • iTunes

Uwe Schmidt is a man with a million aliases. Most of his musical guises are based on various types of electronica – techno, IDM, ambient – but after he moved to Santiago de Chile in the 1990s, he put together a Latin orchestra and added an extra alias to the pile, becoming Señor Coconut. His previous work brought an element of amusement to the proceedings, and his albums as Señor Coconut carried on that theme – the first big release under that name was a tribute to Kraftwerk, performed as if they were a traditional South American ensemble. Fiesta Songs dropped most of that ‘traditional’ ruse, but the musical humour is still there.

Most of the tracks on the album are covers of pop and rock music – ‘Smoke on the Water,’ ‘Riders on the Storm,’ ‘Beat It,’ ‘Oxygène, Part 2,’ that sort of thing – as if they were done by a New York-style salsa orchestra, and bringing other styles such as cha-cha-cha, mambo and bolero into the mix. So, you have an ensemble of mostly German and Danish musicians playing Latin music with a heavy wink and under a ridiculous name. Yes, it may be a little bit gimmicky, but who cares? It’s fun, and good! Bonus points for a couple of really cool tenor sax solos by [checks discogs.com] Thomas Hass scattered throughout.

Fiesta Songs isn’t entirely divorced from Schmidt/Coconut’s electronic roots. There are drum machines, programmed doodads and creative production on a couple of tracks, and even when there isn’t, there is sometimes some vague feeling of electronica in the way that percussion and horns are used. It’s most audible on the appropriately-titled ‘Electrolatino,’ one of only three original compositions on the album.

With this album, Señor Coconut y su conjunto create a combination that I love – light-hearted and humorous music, but played with high-level musicianship. It’s fun for all layers of the brain!

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.

008: Specialist in All Styles, by Orchestra Baobab

Orchestra Baobab (Senegal)
Specialist in All Styles (2002)
9 tracks, 50 minutes
Bandcamp · Spotify · iTunes

Orchestra Baobab do well with their album titles. I reckon they have two of the best: the compilation Pirates Choice from 1989, which was followed by Specialist in All Styles in 2002. How cool and self-assured are those? I reckon Pirates Choice probably pips it in terms of title - and legendary status - but for me, it’s Specialist in All Styles that is the real stand-out musically.

The band are one of the premier exponents of explicitly Afro-Cuban son-derived music in West Africa. The Cubanity is all-pervading in Baobab’s music, but it couldn’t be from anywhere else but Senegal: the traditions of the géwél and jali (the Wolof and Mande griots) are strong, especially in the declamatory vocal style, and the transposing of the signature sound of son, the montuno riff, from the piano to the electric guitar makes theirs a style that straddles continents. It was the pop of 70s Senegal, before it was usurped by the behemoth that is mbalax. The band fell from favour and eventually split up; this album was their triumphant return after 14 years.

The quality of music and production is exquisite throughout Specialist in All Styles, but it’s a particular bit of album sequencing on the second half of the record that really does it for me. Three tracks: ‘On Verra Ça,’ ‘Hommage à Tonton Ferrer,’ ‘El Son Te Llama,’ one after the other. Amazing! The first is probably the best track on the album, the one I play again and again. The second is a slow, sultry piece with guest vocals from legends across an ocean, Ibrahim Ferrer and Youssou N’dour. The third is a Cuban classic, played at a lightning pace and rendered extra spicy with Senegalese flair. Bam bam bam. Excellent. This record could just be these three tracks and clock in at 16 minutes and I’d be happy.