Several decades into her career, Ednita Nazario looks good. Just look at that album cover. But the diva sounds fabulous, too. Her famously throaty vocals are as dexterous and passionate as ever, whether bouncing along a peppy pop beat ("Sin Pensar"), slinking through a sexy rocker ("Tócame") or breaking your heart with spent, country-hued grandeur (the aching "No Me Dejes Ir"). If some of the material here occasionally sounds a little dated (or at least adult contemporary), hey, we'll call it classic and thank the pop gods this grande dame's singing her age, not her shoe size.
Forget the swaggering young cocks of new banda and norteño. This hot young thing uses his time in front of brass and accordions for sweet-talking and woo-pitching. Rueda spends most of Sinaloense romancing, with his silvery voice, and dancing -- or at least slinging plenty of fodder for swinging your novia around the dancefloor (check out sultry rumba "Todo Porque Te Amo"). Even when he gets hang-dog bitter ("Porque Te Quiero"), he still sounds sweet as a puppy. And even when he raucously expresses a desire to get rip-roaringly drunk, it kinda sounds like the best date ever.
Every so often, you encounter an album that just sweats cool, and Sistema Bomb's debut has just that sheen to it. A "trans-border" project created by American DJs collaborating with artists playing traditional music, Electro-Jarocho does what it says: maps the Afro-Mexican folk style son jarocho (the basis for "La Bamba," among others) onto a spacey, shimmery electro-landscape. Working with fellow border-transgressors like Ozomatli ("El Cascabel"), la Sistema balances hip beats (dub, funked-up cumbia) with a clear respect for their musical history. Don't miss "Butaquito"'s trippy folklorico.
Released on the tail of his guest spot in 3BallMTY's tribal guarachero hit "Inténtalo," El Bebeto's second album with his band Patria Chica showcases both the qualities that helped him make that song such a hit and his range. To put it simply, this boy can sing, whether it's over club beats or swollen, swaggering banda brass. He also charms the botas off almost anything he touches, from sizzling party cuts (like swinging cumbia "El Parrandero" or inebriated waltz "Antro, Música y Bebidas") to sensitive slow jams (see the soulful "Corazón De Acero"). This Sinaloa kid is going places.
This compilation imagines a world in which Selena survived -- and continued veering in poppier directions. Beloved hits are crisply remastered and reworked in contemporary styles; if the overhauling is nearly blasphemous at points, smoothing regional edges into almost unrecognizable mainstream ballads, it also showcases a vibrant talent that still shines in almost any context (even the Don Omar-featuring cumbia-funkified "Fotos y Recuerdos"). And where it really works, as on the gut-gripping Cristian Castro duet "Como La Flor," we get a glimpse of the artist she might have matured into.
Don Omar makes a grab at Pitbull's bilingual club king crown on his second effort with his pet MCs. That means sleek, echoing beats; más AutoTune; female guests with icy vodka voices; and next to no rapping. Omar & co. spend much of New Gen singing over beats that only hint at reggaeton's usual bombast. The good Don has always pushed his genre's parameters, though, so he does crossover cleverly: "Dutty Love" rides a synth steel pan over a popped up dembow, while "Mi Nena" spins a strange, haunting dub. He also messes with cumbia and his own "Danza Kuduro." Still, we kinda miss iDon.
Future historians may look back at this as the moment when bachata and R&B finally succumbed to the rhythms of their own satiny-slow dance and fully, blissfully merged. Here, Phase II draws us close into plaintively crooned, breathlessly intimate bachata ("Eres Tú"); there ("Addicted"), it dips us into sunny, morning-after soul; and just about everywhere, it spins us into a world where the line between them doesn't quite exist (see "Las Cosas Pequeñas"). Royce is a perfect matchmaker: He sings like Usher, woos like Bruno Mars and works the sultriest bachata shuffle this side of Santo Domingo.
It's every father's dream for his son to take over the family business. That's the premise of Los Dos Vicentes, a collaboration in which Vicente Fernandez, ranchero's CEO, crowns his son as his official heir. With the exception of one duetted serenade of their wife/mother, father and son alternate tracks, sketching out a transition that is, if not vocally, musically seamless. But even if Vicente Jr.'s pleasant voice doesn't quite have dad's dramatic range, he proves himself more than capable of carrying the weight of those sweeping strings and deliciously soapy soundscapes on his shoulder.
The Soundway debut of Will “Quantic” Holland’s cumbia outfit is a kind of live reenactment of Holland’s own study of Colombian musical history since moving there in 2007 -- and of his engagement with it. Los Miticos is awash in the vintage tropi-cumbia of the 1960s, from the musicians (all respected locals with long histories) to the all-analog recording. But it’s also playfully anachronistic: Tucked in among classic cumbia and vallenato cuts are ironic, cumbia-fied covers of Queen and Michael Jackson and tracks like “Noche de Tamborito,” which works in bits of klezmer to jazz.
On his first post-group outing, Aventura's former guitarist flexes those producing muscles. Santos imagines a world where all Latin pop shuffles to the bachata beat (a not-so-unlikely future), bachata-fying artists of all stripes, from alt-rockers Elefante to pop diva Thalia. It doesn't always work: the softly busy sound doesn't meld easily with loud sonic textures (La 5a Estacion) or big voices (like Reik's belting). But elsewhere (Camila's track is lovely and Playa Limbo is a great reminder of why we need female bachateras), Santos' beats open up new sonic dimensions.
The story of Michel Teló's amazing rise to fame echoes throughout Na Balada. Once upon a time, Teló was a little-known singer of sertanejo (Brazilian country), a background that reverberates in the ever-present accordion and hop-scotching rhythms here. Then, "Ai Se Eu Te Pego" became a massive global hit, thanks in part to a viral video and fans like Pitbull. The result? A live album that documents Teló's now feverishly devoted crowd (who threaten to out-sing him) and the charming vocal presence that helped get him here. Clubby cut "Eu Te Amo E Open Bar" also points to a potential pop future.
This collection helmed by DJ-producer Cobra picks up where 3BallMTY left off: globalizing the scorching hot sound of tribal guarachero. But unlike Inténtalo, these are not hook-laden, pop-leaning singles. They're thick, juicy club cuts scooped up off a Monterrey dancefloor. On each track, Cobra assembles a folklorico-inflected beat, then breaks it down and examines its guts. "Cumbia Tribal," for instance, pulls both the word and the rhythm "cumbia" apart at the seams. Booming radio announcer calls and seizure-inducing sirens will get you shaking it, even if the dancefloor's nowhere in sight.
