Doble-U y Yandel may have just managed to pull off the dream of every would-be reggaeton king with the aptly titled Lideres. The crossover-leaning cuts here are many and infectious, designed to get you shaking it whether the duo has J.Lo or Chris Brown in tow. But here's the thing: They do it without sacrificing a bit of their natural swagger. Bangers like "Prende" work the dembow like they own it. But W&Y roll strong riddims into even their poppiest cuts (the reggaeton-ified dubstep of "Una Benedición") and their innovative beats into everything (see the slippery synths of "No Te Detengas").
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.
With its slickly Auto-Tuned sing-song flow and a kind of smoothed-out vibe that ranges from melancholic to lightly playful, War Kingz doesn't feel exactly war-like. But it does kind of make you want to join up with Cosculluela and his squad of guest stars as they hustle and flow, swagger and shuffle across a club pumped up with reggaeton riddims, sleek beats and pop hooks on cuts like the lilting, taunting "No Te Metas." Things get more ferocious when Los Mafia Boyz show up on "En El Case" and stay that way through the ominous, dembow-driven "Mi Hermana" and "Súbelo" (check its clever beats).
Beto Cuevas attempts the mythical mid-career metamorphosis with Transformacion, which finds the La Ley singer going full-on dance-pop divo, complete with glistening synths, robo-vocals, cocktail-doused club beats and, um, Flo Rida. It'll be an adjustment for long-time fans, but the truth is, the alt-rocker makes a mighty fine pop star. From killer opener "No te olvides," Cuevas churns out cut after solid, dynamic dance-pop cut, many of them displaying innovative edges (see the squeaky beats and sexy whispers of "Latido"). Even the Flo Rida track is, while a bit more mundane, peppily pleasant.
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.
With a fantastic name (say it like the food), a fabulous album title and a deliciously campy cover to match, one might expect this Mexican outfit to be kind of zany. But their second album delivers pretty straight-up (and quite pretty) electro-pop. Gauzy beats, shimmering synths and Maria Barracuda's sexy, ice queen vocals make every track sound like a soundtrack for beautiful people's lives. But it's also fun when the duo takes off in weirder directions, like the hints of spaghetti western on "Corazon de Metal" or the creepy land of forgotten hip-hop toys that is "Ya Se Murio."
Pablo Alboran’s official job title may be singer -- and more specifically, flamenco-kissed Spanish singer. But we think his real job title ought to be lover. Like its teasing name implies, Tanto is an exercise in seduction and charm. Alboran plies us with slow-burning flamenco guitars and subtly passionate strings -- then suddenly takes off in surprising directions, like the slippery Middle Eastern pop of “Extasis,” the spaghetti slide guitars of “Sere,” the flamenco-disco of “En Brazos.” Then in swoops his feathery, husky voice, breathing sweet nothings in your ear. You will swoon.
Alex Anwandter's Rebeldes paints a portrait of a young artist who is equal parts perpetually ironic, throwback-loving electro-dance hipster and excruciatingly earnest pop fan. And most of the time on the Chilean indie-popper's debut, it's hard to tell where the line between the two is. Razor-thin vocals dance detachedly over beats that bounce from disco to Latin freestyle, '80s synth pop to '90s acid-hop, all of it grounded in a loving homage to Latin pop. The opening track shimmers between Jamiroquai funk, disco and what sounds like a Technotronic sample -- and that's just the beginning.
Let reggaeton's boys have their crossover dreams and pack their albums with hip-hop guest stars. Ivy Queen will be here, keeping the swagger alive. On her eighth album, la reina reps "Real G4 Life," swinging hard and heavy in her trademark low, fierce flow. But while she grounds Musa in a thick classicism, Ivy has never been afraid of experimentation, so pop hooks, bits of cumbia and a lot of bachata abound. See booming single "Peligro de Extincion," which seems pretty unlikely, especially when the Queen starts talking about Juliets taking over for Romeos if the boys can't handle it.
Like any corrido singer worth his sal, Roberto Tapia makes narrative songs that also sound like stories. Every track on El Muchacho (ay, what a title!) rolls with the flow of a narrative: Tubas and accordions merrily push the action along as Tapia's sometimes salty, sometimes surly, always almost sweet tenor animatedly spits out thrilling plot twists like he's spinning yarns around a campfire. But these tall tales also make you feel like dancing. Check out the rollicking gallop of "La Carta Fuerte" or "El Mini Lic," a topsy-turvy dance with the accordion.
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.
If your experience with bachata has been with the likes of Romeo Santos and Prince Royce, you’re in for a surprise -- a warm, lovely surprise. La Familia Soriano is steeped in a more classic version of the genre than the kind of R&B-laced pop fare that gets the most attention today. The genre’s Afro-Caribbean roots are emphasized (sometimes explicitly, as on “Tú me estás matando”), the steel string guitar is prominent and the vocals are as rich and full as the emotions on tracks like “La Trampa.” But Soriano also contemporizes his classicism with sunny hooks and a pop sweetness.
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.
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).
Don't take that title lightly: N'Klabe is one of the groups keeping salsa a living, breathing pop music -- and not just because they end their sixth album with tracks expertly fusing salsa's beguiling sway with hip-hop swagger. The dance-pop flow of "Mi Vida Eres Tu" and the chunky beats and Yomo rhymes of "Pal 23" are great. But the whole album is vivacious, pairing the bright horns of contemporary salsa with the rich, emotive vocals that have made salsa so prolific, whether N'Klabe are working radio-friendly hipness (the irresistible "La Banda") or a classic slow jam ("A Puro Dolor").
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.
What a concept: two Grammy-winning salsa legend team up and take turns singing classics of the genre, including each others’. Unsurprisingly, Eba Say Ajá is fantastic, a warm, friendly conversation between two old friends (we swear Feliciano is even chuckling at times!). With arrangements that emphasize classic salsa’s sunniness and Latin jazz connections (so many pitter-pattering vibraphones!), cuts like the crackle-popping stroll “Inodoro Pérez” and the dramatic “Nina” showcase just how much much these two rich-voiced legends (at 62 and 77) still rule the game.
Who releases an album of sunny, clubby, up-all-night anthems in November?! Mr. 305, that's who -- the guy who not only lives in Miami, but might just pull off his goal of taking Miami's heat and its year-round party worldwide. Nothing too weighty here, though Pit does get serious here and there -- about really rapping, for instance, on the title track and about things he cares about on almost-feminist pickup anthem "Drinks for You" and the almost-political "I'm Off That." Mostly, though, life's a beach in Pit's world, especially on the Latin-leaning tracks ("Tchu Tchu Tcha" really heats up).
The first strains of Gaby Amarantos’s debut hits you like a jolt of pure, exhilarating electricity, a wild, frenetic blast of electro-beats, raw energy and Amarantos’s bold, husky voice. Ride that current through “Ela Tá Beba Doida” and again on other tracks, but the techno brava singer takes a panoramic view of her genre and Brazilian pop in general. Treme tries out spaghetti rumba (“Ex Mai Love”), strutting baile funk (“Galera Da Laje”), electro-merengue and country-fried cumbia with an Afro-pop soul -- and every second pops and crackles. Would you expect anything less from that album cover?
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.
Monica Lionheart couldn't have picked a more evocative title for her solo debut. Everything on Indian Summer sounds as if it were basking in the golden, stolen sunlight of a late afternoon during summer's last gasp. Much of that vibe comes from the fact that the Pacha Massive singer's vocals were cut with a fuzzier, more cottony effect than the slightly crisper electro-acoustic beats. But Lionheart also chooses a wide range of lazy, hazy styles to steep each track in: "Air and Sea" sleepily nods to alt-country, "Relampago" gets trip-hoppy and the epically gorgeous "Sombras" is a wee bit bossa.
At first, Bomba Estereo seem to take the difference between their album titles quite literally. The first half of their follow-up to the fierce Blow Up is indeed graceful, refined, elegant, with Li Saumet's cool vocals distanced by echoing, muted beats. Plenty of exciting bits peek out from behind the restraint (check "Bosque," which sounds like it was made in a chic rainforest). Still, you won't be sorry when they fire back up on the chaotic, cacophonous "Rocas" (those synth-gourd resonators!), or when they keep the flames licking during the rowdy, throbbing, hip-hop-hued second half.
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."
Deborah De Corral's debut is like the proverbial breath of fresh air -- almost literally. Everything on Nunca is light, bouncy, breezy, popping along to plinkety piano jams ("Te Espero") and winsome glockenspiels (the delightful "Algo"). And Deborah sings like she's walking on air, her resonant mezzo sweet but solid. She even makes charging surf guitars sound charming ("Todo el oro")! But don't mistake this airiness for lack of substance: Even the most adorable song (the tip-tapping, snap-crackle-popping "Kamikaze") is the kind of seriously crafted pop confection you wait a generation for.
It's been five years since Mexico's preeminent alt-rockers last rocked. But don't you worry for one second that that means Café Tacvba's any less rock-godly -- even if they did name their 2012 album "the object formerly known as." Recorded with live studio audiences in four countries, El Objeto gets off to an easy, shoegazing start before picking up the pace and taking off in their usual diverse directions around "Espuma," an airy slice of Afro-pop-flecked indie rock. Then comes the one-two punch of folkloric-kuduro-on-speed jam "Olita Del Altamar" and "Yo Busco," a hipster space oddity.
El afán is one of those albums that just hits you, smack in the gut -- and the heart, and the brain. A gorgeous slice of indie pop, El afán dabbles in warm horns and crisp beats, thoughtful guitars and plucky cuatros, country and cumbia, post-punk and vintage exotica, with Ferreira's intimate vocals drawing you into each sonic experiment. "Bailando en las orillas" works a wind section like a less angsty Sufjan Stevens, while sleepy "La apuesta," with its world-weary vocals, breaks your heart and makes you think. Whatever you do, don't miss the richly layered "Me Pierdo Contigo."
At first, the title of this Spanish singer's third album feels overly literal: The tracks have a ragged rock pulse, but Bebe tames the throbbing into something smaller and subtler, a kittenish quirkiness that builds and builds but never releases or roars. But at closer listen, you start to hear nuanced textures and eccentric structures: The mournful, unresolved "Sabras," for instance, keeps you in a prolonged state of longing, while "K.I.E.R.E.M.E.," with its spelling and bells, is exquisitely cool. And if an ominous purr is possible, Bebe's cornered the market on neo-torch song "Yo Fumo."
Camilo Lara's fourth album makes his project's politics explicit, but wow, does it still sound like an uber-hip party, complete with chic beats and kitschy-cool samples (check out the 007-ready "Más!"). Blip-fests like "Ceci N'est Pas Une Automate" are easy to get lost in, but "Es-Toy" shows the tribal punks how the OGs of alt-electronico do. "México"'s slippery, soused horns get kinda beer-teary, but ay, does that nostalgia go down salty-sweet. And "Revolucíon!" is like a sassy, brassy fiesta in the streets, dancing down the line between protest march and parade.
Her last album established Ana Tijoux as Latin hip-hop's favorite b-girl. So she made a follow-up that sounds ... almost nothing like it. Gone are 1977's fuzzy, old-school beats and jazzy flow. Instead, we get a strange juxtaposition of stark, almost militaristic marches and, beginning with the Curumin-featuring "El Rey Solo," trip-hoppy dream worlds. And we get an Ana capable of both feathery coos (not to mention singing!) and steel-toed political critique (see "Shock," which takes up the Chilean education reform protests). La Bala (the bullet) is as stunning and piercing as its namesake.
