This storied mega-band has been hailed as one of the most significant contemporary Cuban musical acts for many important reasons, including their blend of rock, funk and salsa; songo, the modified son genre they created; their multi-generational, multi-decade appeal. But on this vibrant live session recorded 25 years into their career, it's clear that what much of their significance boils down to is the ability to create sheer musical joy -- and the desire to dance. With a few detours, like the funky rock of "Tu Me Haces Falta," everything here is steeped in son and readymade for shaking it.
This storied band are the ambassadors of Cuban son, so you know the swaying, shuffling grooves are going to be rich and, yes, soulful. The sheer mastery with which these various explorations on the traditional rhythm are assembled is impressive indeed. But what's most striking on this collection is the warmth with which they're executed. The vocals are bright and captivating, sun-kissed harmonies interlocking with as much tight precision as the layered instrumentals and the syncopated son beat. Fans of Buena Vista Social Club, take note: This is the band that paved the way.
This 1993 album was a joy to behold after years of the slightly shrill pop Estefan pushed out with the Miami Sound Machine. Her voice is suited to salsa, soaring over the arrangements and betraying that she's capable of more nuance than you'd suspect. Sure, this may have been a calculated bid for more Latin fans, but it's also one of the best albums of Estefan's career.
An exquisite snapshot of the DNA of mid-century Latin music. Already stars, the future La Reina de la Salsa and El Rey de los Timbales dug into their respective cultures: folk and dance traditions like Puerto Rican bomba and plena, sultry Cuban bolero, feisty guarachas, even soulful rock. It's both an ingredients list for "salsa" and a road map of the influential courses Caribbean music had taken. Most of all, it's a heart-pumping exhibition of exhilarating artistry: Puente's timbales are on fire, and Cruz's piercing, incandescent vocals stoke the flames into a passionate inferno.
This project -- bringing Malian and Cuban musicians together to record -- was meant to happen back in 1996, but visa problems stalled it. Producer Nick Gold ended up filling the studio time with some old Cuban musicians who became the Buena Vista Social Club. Thank heavens this project, 14 years later, finally happened, because you can't fake chemistry like this. It helps when the musicians -- including Eliades Ochoa and Toumani Diabate -- are top-class. Four days of live recordings with just any group of musicians wouldn't have resulted in such rich, subtle, vibrant music.
Ferrer keeps his band intact for his second album: Ry Cooder on guitar and production, Cachaito Lopez on bass and Miguel Diaz on congas. But he adds a few twists: the Blind Boys of Alabama guest on "Perfume De Gardenias" and
Flaco Jimenez loans his accordion to "Naufragio." The biggest treat? Ferrer and Chucho Valdes's spontaneous improvisation "La Musica Cubana."
Easy, classy takes on great romantic songs of the Latin American canon. Portuondo is getting on in years and her voice isn't what it was, but what she loses in power she makes up for in expression. That's not to say she over-sings -- Portuondo is too good to lapse into drama just for the sake of it. Her take on a song such as "Te Queria" is restrained but deeply felt, and the tasteful guitar, piano and horns that float through the release stand respectfully behind her.
Nobody wants a greatest-hits comp when they could have a full album of new songs, but Orishas fans will have to content themselves with Antidiotico. A few new tracks are scattered among the classics, including the opening "Hay un Son," which sees the group getting even more sly and slinky in their vocal delivery. And great tracks like "537 Cuba" are available digitally for the first time, which is always cause for celebration.
Cuban Mongo Santamaria was a mesmerizing conguero, bandleader and personality, whose gifts behind the drums were often augmented by a touch of traditional Cuban mysticism. This repackaging brings together his first pair of LPs as a bandleader -- originally released in '58 and '59 -- and reveals the kitschy exotica of the late '50s Latin music fad. The recording doesn't try to win over square audiences, and the credits feature a litany of Latin soul heavies. For a quick primer on the heady stuff, skip straight to "Chano Pozo" and try to wrap your head around what's happening on the congas.
Armando is a cobbled-together beast, a Frankenstein of Beastie Boys take-offs ("Mujeres" remakes "Girls" in Spanish) and club bangers, as well as the odd anthem to booze ("Maldito Alcohol"). Pitbull is less a craftsman than a kind of cultural surfer, using his hedonism to cruise around through the latest dance trends. The guy raps like he's got a permanent case of blue balls; add in a spotty dose of Cuban pride/anti-Castro sentiment, and you've got the formula. An entire album of this gets a little tiring, unless you're brushing your teeth with Jack and lost your Ke$ha MP3.
When Bebo and Chucho Valdes first met up for these sessions, Bebo said to his son, "What happened? You're as fat as a toad!" A fitting opener for a historically fraught father-son relationship, but when these guys hit the pianos, the animosity falls away. With Chucho in the left channel and Bebo in the right, all the brilliance of their combined 150-plus years of musicianship swim in a sea of classical, jazz, pop and Latin music history. Their personalities forge the synthesis -- Chucho's fluid, sometimes breathtaking runs, Bebo's inventive fingers -- in a delightful but never too neat set.
Have you ever wondered why the U.S. went through a mambo craze in the 1950s and made guys like Desi Arnaz into national sweethearts? Well, Perez Prado is the man behind the mystery. He helped to create the mambo, and his recordings remain definitive of the era and the genre -- not to mention that they work equally well in a vintage lounge atmosphere or on the dancefloor.
