A thunderous return to form for reggaeton's kingpin and a reckoning for his club-pop-obsessed genre, Prestige finds Daddy Yankee churning out banger after banger, molding each cut around some of his most interesting beats ever. But every inch of robo-salsa, fever-pitch merengue and sirening electro-pop is firmly grounded in stuttering riddims and driven by Da! Dy!'s fierce flow. Even the most pop-leaning cuts (see the sexy "La Noche de los 2") still manage to balance crossover appeal with swaggalicious reggaeton classicism. Prestige earns its title well before the two smash singles at the end.
Ah, the inevitable "I'm a rock star who had kids, but I'm still hip" kids album. Luckily, Ozomatli is uber-hip. Even better? Their music has always been a bouncy, high-energy affair, so the transition is fairly seamless (see "Exercise," which could be almost any Ozo merengue). OzoKids ranges from the instructional to the silly. But in true Ozo fashion, "Germs" is set to a rock-steady groove, "Moose on the Loose" goes Gypsy-hop, and there's a rapturous ode to skateboarding. The only odd thing in this era of Dora is that this typically bilingual band included almost no Spanish lyrics.
A few years into the tribal guarachero movement, a couple things have changed on this second round of tribal makeovers: The remixers have gotten pretty good at their jobs -- and they've also gotten bored. So there are wacky experiments here, some of which work (the buoyant "Juntos Felices (Happy Together)") and some of which don't (the chaotic "Pan Pan Americano"). What they've gotten great at is finding fairly organic ways to highlight both the warmth of regional classics and their own cool beats. See the tribal-ized Hechizeros Band and Los Horóscopos De Durango.
On this sequel to Papito, Miguel Bose once again revisits his biggest hits with an impressive range of guests in tow, from Ximena Sariñana to Jovanotti to Penelope Cruz! Even more impressive is how Bose lets his guests challenge him -- and how current his oeuvre proves. The cantautor of "Creo En Ti" molds effortlessly into thoughtful tropicalia with Juan Luis Guerra, while he and Juanes turn the electro-drums of "Partisano" into folky protest-marching orders. It's both an homage to a pop legend's legacy and a rich, refreshing check of his own ego in the name of good music and musicians.
Postales isn't so much an album as a rewriting of American music history that, this time, puts Latino voices in the spotlight. Moreno is a song-crafter par excellence, so each little postcard of a musical moment is richly hued, immaculately detailed: filmic waltzes, sultry vintage R&B, strolling Bourbon St. jazz, sleepy cowboy lullabies, pensive torch songs, all of it scorched in blues and sung like Judy Garland en español. Flamenco-mariachi-klezmer opera "El Sombreron" draws you in. Banjo-picked migratory tale "Ave Que Emigre" makes you think. "Quizas" sounds like it was written for her.
It's not really so much a celebration of Mexican history as a celebration of mariachi and ranchera history, but wow, are there some stories in those soaring voices, those swelling horns, those plucked strings, those dramatic lyrics. Emphasizing the classic, beloved singers, Celebrando offers the opportunity to revel in Amalia Mendoza's throaty sob, José Alfredo Jimenez's precise diction, Lola Beltrán's husky belt, Javier Solis' rich baritone. Yolanda del Rio's fierce "Amor a Lo Ranchero" and Jorge Negrete's impeccably crooned waltz "Mexico Lindo y Querido" are highlights.
Alejandro Sanz is the kind of singer who can make you believe in anything. Think you're too cynical for big, heart-soaring anthems riddled with gospel choir swells? Think again, amigo. The Queenly "Se Vende" will have that telltale ticker in your throat. Not a fan of soft-focus, candlelit slow dance jams? The flamenco-warmed beats of "No Me Compares" will have you looking for love. Adult-contemporary rockers, lightly funky jams, tango accordions and a whole lot more of that gospel choir: Alejandro's got it covered and that husky, sensual, cantaore-cut voice will convert you.
Gerardo Ortiz sounds positively peppy on album three. Fairly cocky title aside, El Primer Ministro finds the narco singer moving past the 2011 attack on his entourage and perhaps past the tough stance he took in response on Entre Dios -- at least musically speaking. Things get plenty rollicking, even swaggalicious, on cuts like "Soy Caro." But with the exception of "La Moneda," they stay jaunty, almost sunny, without ever really taking that ominous musical tone. In fact, at times, Ortiz gets downright sweet, crooning his dulcet tenor across sentiment-drenched horn-fests like "Sueño De Amor."
Wow, Chile has been bursting at the seams with icy-hot indie-pop. On Astro's U.S. debut, these charming hipster types make sleek, steamy, throbbing electro-rock that fits like a pair of uber-tight skinny jeans. Tracks blip along, from "Colombo"'s synth-syncopation and sass to "Miu-Miu"'s spaced-out shoegazing. But just when you start to think Astro's electro-poppery is a little too seamless, they disrupt the flow with a little guitar jamming or Afro-pop-hued polyrhythms (check out "Pepa," the album's most fascinating track).
When you open with a swoon-worthy quartet swaggering across a sweeping country-rock landscape like a troupe of sensitive singing cowboys, it's hard to compete -- even on your own album. But Tommy Torres holds his own in the company of Juanes, Ricky Martin and Alejandro Sanz (did we mention swoon?). In fact, he seems to sing best when he's part of some sort of dialogue, as on the lovely duets with Nelly Furtado and Ricardo Arjona or "Querido Tommy," an intimate "chat" with a fan. If his voice thins a bit elsewhere, it's bolstered by the homey, sundown twang that warms almost every track.
