Sorry for the lull in posting guys, I've been incredibly busy. BUT, I think all of you will find it well worth the wait as I'll soon be uploading my FAVORITE LATIN RECORD EVER. It's a gem and a rare one at that, so there's a good chance it'll be new to you.

In the meantime, and in keeping with my Tipica '73 post, Pepanito has shown some great timing and posted three Tipica '73 albums! Check 'em out!

Tipica '73 - Los Dos Lados De La Tipica '73 (Inca, 1977)

Tipica '73 is a loose collective of often rotating members formed during the Ray Barretto fallout in the 70s (detailed in my Orquesta Guarare post). Unlike Orquesta Guarare, Tipica '73 tended towards the more Ray Barretto side of experimentation and Latin jazz, thus making it difficult to to understand why the band members would want to split off in the first place. Orquesta Guarare, it seems, wanted to play straight dance music, making it easy to ascertain why they wanted out of Barretto's experimentalism. Tipica '73, on the other hand, continued to refine the nuances of jazz and Latin fusion with a host of new styles and rhythms. It was as if Barretto himself was split in half by a mighty Janusian blow: on one side, the friendlier but still excellent roots of dance music performed at their best; on the other, a desire for innovation, and moving forward within an already conservative style of music.

But if this schizophrenic fault line tore the Barretto legacy in two, then what is most interesting about today's album is the way in which it carries that duality. Indeed, the album title translates to The Two Sides of Tipica '73, and the LP, originally released on Fania's sister label Inca, was meant to showcase the very split that resulted in the Ray Barretto fallout in the first place; in other words, the continuum between tradition and innovation. Both tendencies exist side by side on this album, from the furious improvisations and stop-start dynamics of the orchestra on Bongo Fiesta, Salsa Suite, and It's A Gay World (my personal favorite), to the straightforward dances of La Botija de Abuelito or Tumba Tumbador. I would also like to point out the electric side of Tipica '73: the electric organ (of some sort?) on Salsa Suite, and the smokin' Yo Bailo De Todo, which features a hot Eddie-Benitez-meets-Santana guitar squaring off against violin and trading fours.

The music here is truly the best of the best, excelling in all respects, whether conservative or cutting-edge. Such quality is to be expected with a line-up boasting violinist Alfredo De La Fe, trumpetist Lionel Sanchez, conguero Jose Grijales, flutist Dick Meza, and the new additions of timbalero Nicky Marrero and ex-Cortijo vocalist Camilo Azuquita, who steps in to take the place of famous Barretto singer Tito Allen from previous Tipica '73 records. He fills in quite beautifully.

The 1977 line-up of Tipica '73, as featured on Los Dos Lados
Back row: Dave Perez, Lionel Sanchez, Joe Grajales, and Nicky Marrero.
Mid row: Camilo Azuquita, Rene Lopez, Dick Mesa, and Alfredo De La Fe.
Front row: founding members Leopoldo Pineda, Sonny Bravo and Johnny Rodriguez.

Tipica '73 will appeal to Barretto fans and beyond. Enjoy!

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And feast your eyes on Tipica '73! This first video features the 1975 line-up, as headed up by Adalberto Santiago on vocals, performing Canuto from their album Candela.



Same line-up, performing El Jamaiquino, but with better sound. Check out the organ (?) at 1:45 in, and the sweet wah'd out classical guitar!



Want to know more about Tipica '73? An excellent article by Tommy Muriel covers them in much more detail here.

Chivirico Davila - Chivirico (Cotique, 1973)

I've finally gotten a system for ripping LPs, so starting with today's album, you can look forward to uploads from my personal record collection!

Click to see album details

For me, Chivirico Davila, or Rafael Davila Rosario, is part of a group of soneros representing a vital link between the mambo/bolero and salsa divide. When the old guard of mambo, cha cha cha, and the like began to go out of style, few were able to successfully cross into the new era of salsa and boogaloo and compete with the ever famous Fania sound. Offhand, there are three singers I can come up with who were not only able to cross that bridge, but do so successfully, all the while enriching the new sound of salsa with subtle throwbacks to its predecessors: Santos Colon, Vitin Aviles, and the artist whose album I am proud to present today.

A native of Santurce, Puerto Rico, Chivirico was a hit in pre-70s Latin music, respected highly as a bolero antillano. Some of his earliest work finds him heading up the orchestra of Perez Prado. Here he would begin to develop his acclaimed improvisational skills. Later, he would work with Cortijo y Su Bonche (an earlier incarnation of Cortijo's band before it became Cortijo y Su Combo), Kako, Joe Cuba, Pete Rodriguez, the famous Richie Ray/Bobby Cruz duo, Tito Puente, and Johnny Pacheco, who produced today's featured album. He would also become an esteemed member of a bevy of "all-star" groups: the Fania All-Stars, the Alegre All-Stars, and, in the 90s, the Puerto Rican All-Stars. From '71-'78, Chivirico signed with the Cotique label issuing a number of excellent, though relatively unknown, albums, including the simply titled Chivirico. With Cotique, Chivirico was not only able to ride the wave of salsa, but to contribute to it as well.

On Chivirico, however, his talents as an old bolero have far from vanished, and the arrangements of Jorge Millet skillfully allow older and newer sounds to coexist. The album generally follows the format of salsa-bolero-salsa-bolero, or salsa songs with ballads in between. While this somewhat halts the pace of the album, the salsa songs still retain an older Cortijo or Ismael Rivera feel, while the ballads sound surprisingly updated. The end result is an excellent work straddling a turbulent line of Latin music that was still in the process of being refined when this album was made. Respetala, a song advising respect for women, and the lament of Como Fue are two of the harder-hitting boleros. For great salsa, check out the opener, which I play often on my Latin Show, and Cuando Tu Quieras. Sin Dinero is a solid boogaloo tune, and you can't forget the rhumba on Se Formo El Rumbon.

In 1993, Chivirico would tour Colombia, despite by this time being 69 years old. Only a year later, he passed away in NYC. Born in Puerto Rico; died in NYC: nothing summarizes the story of Puerto-Rican Latin music better.

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Chivirico pictured center

Ismael Rivera con Kako y Su Orquesta - Lo Ultimo En La Avenida (Fania, 1971)

A very special post today guys. One of the most unique and recognizable voices in all of Latin music, Ismael Rivera is my personal favorite cantante, and this is one of my favorite albums featuring him. Curious as to why I consider Rivera the best? See for yourself.

What's odd, though, is that Lo Ultimo En La Avenida is Rivera out of his element. Almost all of Rivera's career is anchored by the support of good friend and percussionist Rafael Cortijo in a duo famously known as Ismael Rivera y Sus Cachimbos. This album, however, finds Rivera backed by another excellent conguero-led band: Kako y Su Orquesta. Though Rivera and Cortijo grew up in the barrios together and formed a timeless bond--both personally and musically--that would rock the world of Latin music, Rivera doesn't seem to skip a beat with Kako behind him, and neither does Kako himself. In fact, it's as if these two had just as much of a history together as the Cortijo and Rivera duo. The arrangements are tight here, as Rivera, in classic form, weaves his singing in and out and over the band's energy, teasing la clave as if he were born with it. This isn't to say that Rivera wasn't at home with Cortijo's band, but the incredible performance on this record really makes me wonder what we would have seen had Rivera and Kako worked more closely together.

Released in 1971 on the Fania label (and recently reissued along with a host of other Fania jams, so do them a favor and buy it if you like it! I've got mine!), Lo Ultimo En La Avenida hosts some of my favorite songs in Rivera's catalog, which itself reads like an extended greatest hits album. I already posted El Cumbanchero in an earlier post (link), and it's my favorite song on here. There are some other classic tunes as well, including the playful poetics of Mi Negrita Me Espera, making humorous comparisons between the color of the night and the skin color of his demanding wife. The ostentatious El Truquito showcases Rivera's sportive ego as well as penchant for skillful inflection, and for some excellent rhumba, check out Cantar Maravilloso. In truth, pretty much every song on here is a hit. From me to you, one of my favorite albums ever!

Get it here
or here

One final note. Before I say goodbye for the weekend, I'd like to hip you to another excellent Latin music blog run by Pepanito. Check it out here for a lot of quality Latin music. Pepanito has great taste and has been nothing but supportive of my entrance into the world of Latin music blogs, and I'd like all of you who aren't already privy to his blog to show him the same!

Vitin Aviles - Con Mucha Salsa (Alegre, 1978)

An underrated vocalist who passed away on January 1, 2004, Víctor Manuel Avilés Rojas led much of his life in relative obscurity despite his tenure with some of the greats of mambo, cha-cha-cha, and the like: Tito Puente, Xavier Cugat, Pupi Campo, Noro Morales, the Lecuona Cuban Boys, and many more. This may be due in part to the constant accusations that Vitin Aviles is merely a Tito Rodriguez clone, copying his technique of shortening notes and "reading" the lyrics as if they were prose. This accusation continues in spite of the fact that Max Salazar, senior writer of Latin Beat magazine, has unearthed recordings clearly demonstrating Vitin Aviles in full vocal form long before Tito Rodriguez's singing debut. It doesn't help that, when Aviles and Rodriguez later became good friends, Aviles would consider Rodriguez his teacher, despite the former being the latter's predecessor. Amidst all of this controversy, however, Aviles is more than conciliatory: "I learned diction with Tito Rodríguez. My voice is a little deeper, but the way I pronounce the words, I sound just like him. I feel very proud of the comparison because Tito Rodríguez was a superstar."

This dedication to fame would wear heavy on Aviles. When his parents bought their first radio in 1932, an eight-year-old Vitin exclaimed, “Caja extranjera con cable pegado a la pared. ¿Hay gente ahí adentro? Si la hay, yo voy a estar con ellos algún día." (A foreign box with a cable going to the wall. Are there people in there? If there are, I'm going to be with them one day.) By the 50s and 60s, he certainly was, but never as recognized as many (including myself) believe he should have been. What is particularly troubling is the waning of his popularity after 1975, despite scoring one of his biggest records that same year on the Alegre label, Canta al Amor.

This may have been due to his perception as a vocalist of the old guard, but then 1978's Con Mucha Salsa, featured here today, seems even more of a mystery. The album, produced by Louie Ramirez, sports a jaw-dropping line-up: Luiz Ortiz and Ray Maldonado on trumpet; Charlie Palmieri on piano; Nicky Marrero on bongos and Johnny Rodriguez on congas; and Adalberto Santiago sharing choro with Miguel Barcasnegras. Clearly, Vitin Aviles can pull off salsa just as well as he can mambo. Why this album was overlooked and did little to curb Aviles's declining popularity is beyond my understanding.

Charlie Palmieri's piano lines kick off the album with Sufre, featuring an unforgettable hook and a performance by the deep-voiced Aviles that makes you wonder why he wasn't a staple on the Fania catalog. Pay attention to the hot breakdown at about 2:40, perfectly summarizing the Nuyorican sound. The commanding Levanta y Anda features some raucous horn lines and a dynamic rhythm that writhes and squirms beneath Aviles's crooning. Dale Cara a Tu Dolor sounds like it was arranged by Willie Colon himself, and it's not a huge leap to picture Ruben Blades sharing the vocal duties. The trumpets on Compay Salsa throw back to Vitin Aviles's earlier tenure with Puente, Cugat, etc., and is sure to get any dance floor moving.

Here's to recognizing him where many others could not. Enjoy.

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or here

Orquesta Guarare - Renaissance (Inca, 1979) aka Ray De La Paz - S/T (Fania, 1995)

Orquesta Guarare is one of those excellent groups from what I like to call the "precipitacion radiactiva de Ray Barretto" : the Ray Barretto fallout (for once, something sounds more eloquent in English than in Spanish). Creative differences between Barretto and his band in the late 70s led to a musical fault line. At the risk of oversimplifying, the members wanted to play straight Latin dance music, running contrary to Barretto's Latin jazz and fusion tendencies. Eventually, the Ray Barretto band fired their own leader, and in the wake of this upheaval a number of Ray Barretto bands emerged in a chain reaction the details of which I can never quite get straight. What I do know is that among those bands, two of the best were Tipica 73 (who I will post soon) and the group featured here today. [Anyone who has more detailed information on the Ray Barretto fallout, feel free to add in the comments!]

Renaissance is the second effort from Orquesta Guarare, re-released by Fania as the self-titled Ray De La Paz in 1995, though I'm not quite sure as to the details of the reissue. To my knowledge, their first album has never been released on CD. Guarare originally featured the great Tito Gomez & Ruben Blades duo on vocals, but by their first recording date the singing duties would belong to Ray De La Paz, who you hear on Renaissance. In addition to working with Barretto (most notably on Rican/Struction), De La Paz has also recorded with Louie Ramirez (the Ramirez/De La Paz duo would pioneer "Salsa Romantica" with the Noche Caliente album), and is presently a member of the Spanish Harlem Orchestra. Nicky Marrero protege Jimmy Delgado, who was playing bongos in Willie Colon and Hector Lavoe's band at about the same time, leads on percussion.

Though not as inventive as the man that Orquesta Guarare left, the band plays some seriously solid dance music with tinges of Barretto here and there. Pay attention to the sound of the production, as, in my opinion, this is the beginnings of modern Latin production value (listen to Spanish Harlem Orchestra today to see what I mean). My favorite on here by far is the heavy Maria, exhibiting some of the more poignant lyricism of the album. Oh, that chorus....

Maria, quiero saber, si tu me vas a querer
(Maria, I want to know, if you are ever going to love me)

Guapo is a lot of fun as well, a warning to "Guapo" 's everywhere. It's fairly difficult for me to directly translate this connotation of Guapo, but think of it as a egotistical guy who thinks he has everything. Ten' cuidado, que al guapo le llega lo suyo (Be careful: the guapo gets his). The percussive explosion on the outro of Que Linda Te Ves will have your butt movin'. Renaissance isn't groundbreaking, but an excellent album nonetheless and a great way to see the sheer talent backing up Ray Barretto in the mid-70s.

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or here

Henri Guedon - Early Latin & Boogaloo Recordings by The Drum Master (Comet, 2004)

I had never heard of Henri Guedon until the fine folks over at Comet put together this excellent retrospective of his work from the 60s. A French bongo player, Guedon was instrumental in exporting the new sound of 60s and 70s Latin--guaguanco, boogaloo, salsa, descarga--to France and the rest of Europe. When Guedon began placing his percussion instruments at the front of the stage in the style of his great influence Ray Barretto, French audience members found themselves shocked and intrigued. Soon enough, greats like El Conde and Pacheco were touring France, and Guedon was dubbed The French Salsa King. Were it not for Henri Guedon, Europe could have conceivably taken years to move forward from mambo and cha-cha-cha.

Aside from his novelty status as an exporter of Latin music across the Atlantic, Guedon is an innovator in his own right. He referred to himself as "The Rootless Negro," a metaphor for his willingness to embrace black diversity in his music. Indeed, listening to Early Latin and Boogaloo invokes African-based influences encompassing a number of different contexts, from the drum work (and at times even the Afrobeat) of the African mainland, to the jazz and salsa of Americas, to the culturally-rich creole influences born in a Spanish-French hybrid. The fact that he was born in the Caribbean in the city of Martinique and would spend much of his career in Paris and New York does not simply coincide with the character of his music: it determines it.

Guedon was also a talented painter, his inspiration coming from the same source that fueled his music.





That's not, however, to muddle an incredible collection of Latin dance music with cultural analysis. Make no mistake: Early Latin and Boogaloo is a fantastic look into a fantastic artist's music. The album begins with some of Henri's more conventional songs, solid boogaloos, and his more mainstream hits (Faut Pas Pousser was a hit in France). For me, the real meat of this compilation and Guedon's style begins with Los Antillanos de Paris, beginning a focus on Guedon's descargas and extended jams. Vulcano is a funky, stop-on-a-dime scorcher that is in some ways more Afrobeat than Afro-Cuban; the bass-driven Machapia is perhaps the most overt example of Guedon's African influences, showcasing African drumming; Sainte-Marie, one of my favorites, bring out the funky bass for an extended jam with a hot sax solo. A few other "notables among notables" include Concierto de Mi Bongo, Marcel Song (bring on the flute), Negro Lucumi, and the slowed-down but still solid closer, Descaguajira. Pointing out favorites on a compilation like this, though, is ultimately pointless. Every song on here demands your full attention, and perhaps most importantly, your hip shakin'. Enjoy.

Get it here
or here