The first release from Mexico's tribal guarachero movement gestures towards both the past and future of this buzzy scene and the teenage hipsters behind it. The album's first half is all slick, flossing club anthems that intertwine electro-cumbia shuffle with dance and hip-hop beats, like a kind of alt-regional-Mexican LMFAO (see: "Tipsy"). But the second half gets back to the movement's roots: the unlikely, irresistible marriage of electronic dance music with pre-Colombian folk music, governed by wiggling synth-scrapers and dedicated to the pointy-boots-wearing raver-cowboys who dance to it.
The busy, buzzing energy that enlivens Alacranes' latest is exciting to hear, as this is the group's first album since conflict led to rumors of a permanent breakup. The duranguense mega-stars have apparently licked their wounds, however, because Besos sounds tightly executed and perhaps even more delightfully frenetic than ever. The "scorpions" scuttle from galloping polkas to pleading R&B vocals, from crisp, almost hip-hop-esque beats to at least one rocker ballad ("Te Busque") that could be from those other Scorpions' oeuvre. And synth-tuba oom-pahs and pop-friendly hooks anchor it all.
Mi Amigo is technically a cover album -- more specifically, the second installment of Cristian Castro's musical tribute to his friend and mentor Jose Jose. But everything here is well within Castro's wheelhouse: sweeping strings, soaring vocals and, most of all, impassioned, emotive, desperately romantic lyrics and melodies. "Lo Dudo" was the lead single, but "Desesperado" really nails the vibe here: drama, drama and more delicious drama. Does it sound a bit dated? Sure -- these are Latin pop classics, after all -- but Castro's warm, clear voice makes them sound timeless.
Like every other early 2010s pop star, Paulina Rubio has been bitten by the clubby dance-pop bug. And why not? She's got the voice (light, unobtrusively sexy) and the (diva) presence to pull it off. But while that material is pleasant and danceable (especially lead single "Me Gustas Tanto"), it feels a bit standoffish. The English tracks are particularly lackluster. The second half finds her branching out -- and warming up -- as she duets with Taboo, preens and prances through the vallenato-laced "Me Voy" and fetchingly coos across the sweeping synths of ballad "Que Estuvieras Aqui."
The kind of music Pausini makes -- climactic, heart-on-her-sleeve pop-rock -- is the kind of music people usually either love or hate. Except when she makes it: It's so well-crafted and impeccably sung, you can't help but fall hard. Charming details dance about: a flute on "Jamás abandoné," the country-ish slide guitar on "Lo que tú me das." But the most important detail is Pausini's voice, which shimmers, soars, belts and holds her own in duets (even with herself). As has become her habit, she's recorded Inedito in Italian and Spanish, but there's plenty to grab onto, whatever your language.
Chino y Nacho aren't joking with that title. And the Venezuelan duo's got a strategy to ensure that it becomes reality: namely, to pack every sizzling Latin genre on the market full of hooks and pepper in some high-profile guest stars for good measure. Lead single "El Poeta" whips up a cumbia-meets-dance-pop-meets-tropical-dance fever (all of it glued together by the Venzuelan duo's silky vocals). Up next? The urban-tinged "Bebe Bonita," featuring a sexy Jay Sean cameo. Infectious dance-pop, a '60s pop throwback ("Pobre Corazon") and a Luis Enrique cameo follow. Supremo, indeed.
Fanny Lu has always mixed Colombian pop-folklorico (cumbia, vallenato) with killer hooks and beats, but now she's got that formula down to a science. Like the split personality photo of Lu on its cover, Felicidad is at once slick and friendly. Lead single "Fanfarrón" gestures toward the sunny acoustics of her big hit "No Te Pido Flores," but beyond that, Lu gets adventurous: "Ni Loca" layers electro-cumbia with ska-ish horns and Latin pop licks; "Te Amo, Te Amo" samples "Funkytown"; and the quirky, reggaeton-laced cumbia funk of "Don Juan" shows just how effervescently Lu can sell her formula.
Romeo Santos wisely doesn't deviate far from Aventura's Formula, dousing his first solo album in sweet-talking, hip-hop-infused shuffle-and-roll bachata-pop. But this is also Santos' chance to declare himself king of bachata and of the genre's crossover turf. So he cozies up to sleek dance-pop, dramatic Latin balladry, sultry booty-hop (see the Lil Wayne-featuring "All Aboard") and a host of high-profile guests from La Mala Rodriguez to Usher to George Lopez (!). It's a slick campaign that'll quickly convince you of how far Santos' "bad" boy charm and feathery tenor can take him.
La reina de la banda has always had crossover appeal in spades. But with Joyas Prestadas, Rivera makes an explicit grab at a wider audience. Not only has she recorded the album in both banda and pop versions, but the line between the two "worlds" on both albums is fine: Even the sauntering tubas of "Basta Ya" can't obscure the solid pop hook that secures it, for instance, while the pop version of "Resulta" is peppered with mariachi brass and slide guitars. Her definition of "pop" is also pretty wide, from the bachatacized "Asi Fue" to the legions of sweeping strings.
