Siembra - Live (rec. 1980, rel. 2010)
Some people don't care for live albums, but I sure do: apart from giving the backing band a chance to show their stuff, I nearly always develop a better appreciation for the compositions being played. In this case, I'd forgotten what wonderful songs "Dime" and "Plantación Adentro" are, while everyone gets into the act on an extended spin through "Buscando Guayaba" (with one of the best bridge vamps you will ever hear).
Most of Siembra is covered, plus two songs from Metiendo Mano ("Pablo Pueblo"), and everything is a classic (Johnny Ortiz's brilliant "Ojos" is probably the weakest tune here), so there's not much to grumble about.
I'm assuming this wasn't released sooner because of sound quality problems: Blades is always clearly audible, but everyone else drifts up and down in the mix (Cuevas in particular is usually too loud or too soft) and the crowd noise is tinny.
(DBW)
Maestra Vida (Blades: 1980)
This is a two part work, released on two separate LPs (and now
CDs), but I'm going to review it as one. It's a concept album,
tracing the story of a Latin American family through two
generations. It's a major work, carefully conceived and executed,
with thoughtful lyrics and original music (produced by
Colón) from a variety of genres. The best songs (the title
track, "Dejenme Reir Para No Llorar," "El Viejo Da Silva") are
among Blades' best work. But like most operas, this has some
throwaway material needed to advance the plot ("Carmelo"), and a
lot of spoken dialogue that gets dull after a while. Unfortunately,
the CD release doesn't have the liner notes or printed lyrics from
the original LP release did. (DBW)
Fantasmas (Colón: 1980)
"Oh Que Sera," by Brazilian dissident Chico Buarque, is a
memorable, low-key rumination on life, driven by a powerful but
understated Sal Cuevas bass line. The other hit was "Amor
Verdadero," disco-merengue with an effective rhythm guitar hook,
although the album version is rather longer than anybody really
needs. There's also a really neat production trick on the album-
ending "Toma Mis Manos" where the backing vocals soar off into
outer space. Beyond that, the album is slow and ballad-heavy, which
would be fine except that Colón doesn't really have the
voice to pull it off. (DBW)
Canciones Del Solar De Los Aburridos (Blades & Colón: 1981)
"Aburridos" (bored guys) is certainly the right word here. Willie
and Rubén both sound bored, and you probably will be too.
The album starts off promisingly enough, with a nice Blades
composition on US imperialism in the Caribbean ("Tiburón")
and the ominous "Te Estan Buscando," but quickly descends into
unengaging silliness ("Madame Kulalu," "El Teléfonito" with
its irritating "ring ring" chorus) and bland, by-the-numbers salsa
("Ligia Elena"). (DBW)
The Last Fight (Colón & Blades: 1982)
A movie soundtrack. This sounds like it was cut in a weekend: the
two new Blades compositions are tossoffs, and the rest is
rearrangements of standards. By this point Blades was seeking to
complete his Fania contract as rapidly as possible. But
Colón's band is so good even the most mediocre material
holds your interest, and Blades' "What Happened" is amusing.
(DBW)
Corazón Guerrero (Colón: 1982)
An album of covers, including some unlikely tunes like Carole King's "Will You Love Me
Tomorrow?" Some of it works brilliantly (Jacques Brel's "Dormido
No" becomes a rousing romp, "El Hijo Y El Papá" is as tender
a song on fatherhood as I've ever heard), in other places it fails
rather dramatically (the title song by Mark Knopfler). (DBW)
Vigilante (Colón: 1983)
Colón's reunion with Hector Lavoe, although Colón
sings the lengthy title track. "Vigilante" is brilliantly arranged,
with luscious strings providing a backdrop for stinging
instrumental solos, including an extended guitar solo by George
Wodenius. Lyrically, the album is hilariously irresponsible, with
the Bernie Goetz-like endorsement of extralegal revenge on the
title track, and the celebration of a gangster on the scorching
"Juanito Alimaña." The album closer is another eleven minute
marathon, "Pase La Noche Fumando," and it's amusing if not a
masterpiece. (DBW)
El Que La Hace La Paga (Blades: 1983)
This is a contractual obligation Fania release; it's available on
a two-for-one CD with Mucho Mejor - the rerelease is called
Poeta Latina. But even though Blades wasn't putting his all
into this one (three originals out of seven cuts) it's pretty good
anyway: uncluttered, danceable salsa ("La Pasado No Perdona" and
"Para Ser Rumbero" are standouts) if lightweight lyrically ("Te
Odio y Te Quiero"), and Blades is a fine singer as always. (DBW)
Mucho Mejor (Blades: 1984)
That's a misleading title if ever I've heard one. Another
contractual obligation Fania release, now available on a
two-for-one CD (see above). It's enjoyable, with some nice tunes
("Amor Pa' Que"), but it's run of the mill NY salsa product, with
nothing to recommend it but professional craftspersonship. (DBW)
Criollo (Colón: 1984)
There's a lot of exceptional material here, including a fun anti-
nuke number ("La Era Nuclear"), an anti-military song that got
Willie banned in Chile ("El General"), a jazzy, strange celebration
of blind musicians ("Son Ellos"), and several explorations of
Brazilian music: "Me Das Motivo" (a hit for Tim Maia), "Miel" by
Caetano Veloso, and Willie's own "Copacabana, Ipanema,
Leblón." He changed labels right after this record, and says
the label buried the record because of its politics. Generally more mellow than his 70s work, but
consistently original and carefully produced. (DBW)
Buscando América (Blades: 1984)
Blades' mass-market breakthrough, with plenty of tuneful, energetic
salsa: "Desapariciones," "El Padre Antonio," "Todos Vuelven." I
find "Decisiones" kind of cutesy, but it was a big hit. The slower
songs are just as successful, from the almost-spoken word "GDBD" to
the low-key "Caminos Verdes" to the extended title track. (DBW)
Tiempo Pa' Matar (Colón: 1984)
Another quality effort from Colón: there's funky bass and
screeching violins on the anti-war title track, and the plaintive
love song "Gitana." He overuses saccharine female backing vocalists
on "Voló" but redeems the track with an exceptional piano
solo. There's also yet another Chico Buarque composition, "Noche De
Los Enmascarados." The album closer, "Callejón Sin Salida,"
is a tour de force, with Colón pulling out everything he can
think of: seven or eight different musical sections, flute solos,
reggae rhythms, stabbing strings, female backing vocals, a perfect
imitation of Los Van Van's songo, even a
rock-style electric guitar solo. (DBW)
Escenas (Blades: 1985)
Lots of brilliant material, compassionate but uncompromising, and most of the music is equal to the lyrics: "Cuentas Del Alma" is one
of his finest compositions; he transforms Los
Van Van's "Muévete" into a political call without losing
the groove (Van Van returned the compliment by covering the
brooding "Tierra Dura" from this album); and "Sorpresas" continues
the story of Pedro Navaja from Siembra. By now Blades is
starting to rely heavily on synthesizers, but isn't using them in
an innovative way - the synth solo by Joe Jackson is a case in
point. "Caína" is a routine anti-drug tune, and many of the
songs are too long. But it's still an excellent introduction to his
work. (DBW)
Especial No. 5 (Colón: 1986)
Recorded in Venezuela; this is Colón's experiment with
synthesizers and drum machines. It's somewhat successful: "Lo Que
Es De Juan" is exciting and chock-full of riffs, "Soltera"'s drum
machine-driven rhythm is classically late 80s, like Banda Blanca's
"Sopa De Caracól." The album is padded out with a lengthy
medley of his early hits - I've heard the arrangement in concert,
and it's very effective, but on record it's redundant: you're
better off getting the original versions. (DBW)
Crossover Dreams (Blades etc.: 1986)
The soundtrack to Blades' film debut, and it's extremely uneven.
Blades hardly sings at all, and when he does he's either in
character, singing a pop number with a mind-numbing slap bass part
("Good For Baby") or one of several versions of "Todos Vuelven,"
which he'd already recorded on Buscando América. (He
also sings "Sin Fé" which appears on not one but two of the
Fania contractual obligation albums.) Much of the other music
sounds like film background music ("Rudy's Theme"); there are a few
bright spots: solo piano turns by José Gallegos and Mario
Rizo, and some fine traditional vocals by Virgilio Martí
("Elegua"). But one cut lifted from Super All-Stars -
featuring Tito Puente, Paquito D'Rivera, Chocolate Armenteros,
Daniel Ponce and more - embarrassingly shows up the rest of the
music on the album. (DBW)
Doble Filo (Blades: 1987)
I think this was recorded years earlier, but held back by Fania so
they could more effectively milk his fame. Anyway, like the earlier
contract obligation albums, the album is straightforward salsa:
tuneful, professional and effective. The mushy ballad "Duele" is a
low point, but even there the arrangement is interesting. It's all
completely apolitical, and certainly not as good as the work Blades
was really putting his heart into, but not disappointing for fans.
(DBW)
Agua De Luna (Blades: 1987)
This was another concept album from Blades; this time each song is
based on a story by Colombian magic realist Gabriel García-
Marquez. (Since I don't know the stories, I'm undoubtedly missing
a lot.) "Ojos De Perro Azul" is a masterpiece, both lyrically and
musically. On most of the other tracks, lifeless synths are very
prominent, and the arrangements stick to block chords repeated over
and over again, giving the sound an elevator music quality. It's a
shame, because the lyrics are terrific ("Laura Farina," "La Cita,"
"Blackamán") as often as they're incomprehensible ("Claro
Oscuro," "No Te Duermas"). (DBW)
The Winners (Celia Cruz & Willie Colón: 1987)
This wasn't a huge hit, and since I'm not a Cruz fan I wasn't expecting much from this. But it's a lot of fun: the opening "Un Bembe Pa' Yemaya" is a blend of house rhythms and traditional santería chanting, anticipating India's later efforts in that direction. The rest of the disc is swinging, standard-issue salsa, with enough memorable tunes ("Son Matamoros," "Se Tambalea") to make up for the occasional cheesy lyric ("El Paraiso"). The packaging of my CD release is abysmal, and I don't know who wrote the tunes; Colón produced, as usual, but doesn't do much singing or trombone playing. Not a high point in either artist's career, but an enjoyable sidetrip. (DBW)
With Strings (Blades: 1988)
The low point of the Fania contractual obligation albums; the most
sappy tunes from the previous Fania LP's, rerecorded or with
strings overdubbed. (Actually, "Duele" sounds exactly like the
version on Doble Filo.) There is one song that's not a
rerun: "Tú Sabes Mucho," and it's easily the album's
highlight: an unsentimental ballad that Blades sings with real
feeling. The album cover, where Blades is inexplicably represented
as a redhead, is also worth seeing. For Blades completists.
(DBW)
Nothing But The Truth (Blades: 1988)
This was Rubén's English-language album, with tracks written
by Sting, Lou
Reed, and Elvis Costello.
He takes on styles from pop to rock to reggae, even doo-wop - no
salsa, though - and generally does credibly. The main problems are
overreliance on his friends (Sting's number is standard second-rate
Sting; Reed's stuff may be as good or better than his usual, but to
me it's either cynical or clichéd or both) and toothless
lyrics ("The Hit"). The Contragate number ("Ollie's Doo-Wop") is
supposed to be funny but just falls flat. One exception is the fine
"The Miranda Syndrome" with Costello, which overcomes its silly
chorus with thoughtful verses and a solid melody; the AIDS
tearjerker "The Letter" is also a beautiful piece of work. (DBW)
Antecedente (Blades: 1988)
This was an abrupt shift in direction for Blades, jettisoning
synthesizers and mood music for hard-hitting traditional salsa. He
also backs away from bizarre poetic lyrics, opting instead for
common themes rooted in everyday experience, to the point where
they're sometimes clichéd ("Nuestro Adios"). Personally, I
would've preferred keeping the spacey lyrics with the traditional
music, but what the hell. "Patria" is a beautiful song, with
gentle, understated instrumental backing; "La Marea" and "Noches
Del Ayer" aren't profound but they're undeniably powerful. (DBW)
Top Secrets (Colón: 1989)
Colón had a huge hit with the Omar Alfanno composition "El
Gran Varon," a sympathetic portrayal of a gay man who is abandoned
by his family and eventually dies of AIDS; the tune switches from
quiet pathos to swinging abandon punctuated with syncopated horn
riffs, then back to pathos, back to abandon... still makes me cry
almost every time I listen to it, and I'm not the most sentimental
type of guy. Throughout, there are hellacious horn lines and jazzy
chord progressions; his incredible rhythmic sense brings interest
to even the album's most lightweight compositions, and lifts the
best (like the final track "Marta") into the stratosphere. (DBW)
Live! (Blades: 1990)
An unsurprising collection of big hits; the good thing about this
release (two LP's on one CD) is that the band has a lot more bite
live than on their sometimes-overproduced studio LPs. Blades is
also in fine form, with an easygoing sense of fun that takes some
of the bleakness out of songs like "Decisiones" and "Cuentas Del
Alma." The bad news is that the tunes stretch out for minute after
minute, long after everyone's run of new things to say. One track
was left off the CD release, the cassette-only "Patria." (DBW)
Color Americano (Colón: 1990)
One of Willie's most consistent albums, with his band Legal Alien
in top form (listen to the razor-sharp playing on "Aerolinea
Desamor") and a selection of catchy, hook-laden tunes. Two
merengues written by Colón, "Carmelina" and "Me Voy," are
outstanding. The Latin-pride title track and hit single "Vida
Nocturna" are enjoyable if typical, and the album closer "Hasta Que
Te Conocí" goes on a bit too long but builds to a gorgeous,
strangely serene climax. (DBW)
Honra Y Cultura (Colón: 1991)
The hit was "No," attacking a whole shopping list of social ills,
but the album's real winner is "Scandal," which cleverly mixes
salsa with hip-hop, English with Spanish, and even samples
Colón's "La Murga" to make its rather banal point about
media intrusion into the lives of famous people. There's also a
nice comment on the 1492 anniversary and Puerto Rican independence,
"Quinientos Años," and a Sting
cover, of all things ("Fragilidad"). I guess since he'd already
covered the Dire Straits I shouldn't be surprised by anything anymore. (DBW)
Caminando (Blades: 1991)
Workmanlike and entertaining, with tuneful, intelligent dance songs
("Camaleon") and love songs ("Ella Se Esconde"), but he seems more
restrained than usual, as if he's on doctor's orders not to exert
himself, except on the rousing agitprop "Prohibido Olvidar." Rubén's
own song on a homosexual theme ("El") comes across as well-intentioned but flat. (DBW)
Amor Y Control (Blades: 1992)
The album-opening merengue "El Apagón" is a catchy and
enjoyable look at underdevelopment, filled with clever lines, even
if he does compare Fidel Castro to Anastasio Somoza. The
centerpiece of the record, though, is the moving three-part ode to
his recently-deceased mother, consisting of the title track,
"Canción A La Madre" and "Canción A La Muerte." The
love songs ("Creo En Tí," "Piensa En Mí") are
effective though not outstanding, and "El Cilindro" and "Naturaleza
Muerta" are wry comments on the impact of modern technology on
everyday life. There are also several weak tracks: the dull
Caribbean-influenced "West Indian Man"; "Adán García"
is another story song, but not particularly effective; the Beatles tune "Baby's In Black" is
atrocious, you'll be programming your CD player to skip it; and
Blades' response to the Quincentennial ("Conmemorando") tries so
hard to avoid offending anyone that it ends up not saying much of
anything. (DBW)
Hecho En Puerto Rico (Colón: 1993)
The single "Idilio" is pretty, with a nice trombone solo from
Colón. The rest of the album sounds like it was phoned in:
nowadays Colón doesn't bother to write songs anymore, and he
doesn't seem to be paying much attention to the arrangements either
- ten years ago he never would have released a routine effort like
"Por Eso Canto." (DBW)
Tras La Tormenta (Blades & Colón: 1995)
After much hype, and after both Colón and Blades were
defeated in their respective electoral races, this reunion album
was finally released. I bought it hoping to hear some of the
lyrical and musical brilliance of Siembra, and from that
perspective it's a total letdown: nothing here is as heartfelt or
as tightly focused as even the weakest track on that album. But if
you adjust your expectations, there is some enjoyable material
here: the Blades tune "Desahucio" is fun although it's very
familiar territory for him; Colón sings a passable merengue
that takes aim at greed and hypocrisy ("Caer En Gracia"); and the
duet "Doña Lelé" is pleasantly danceable, although
the theme about a homeless woman isn't any more interesting than
Crystal Waters' "Gypsy Woman." (DBW)
Y Vuelve Otra Vez! (Colón: 1996)
Willie's still coasting here: he didn't write or even arrange any
of the tunes, and it sounds pretty much like anything you'd hear on
your local salsa station. But this time most of the tunes are fun
and at least intermittently interesting: "Cayo Condón" is a
mini-encyclopedia of Caribbean dance music; "Me Pegue En La
Lotería" is a ne'er-do-well's revenge; "Sevillana" is
Spanish-flavored and pretty; "Borinquen Parada 22" is clever
political satire. (DBW)
La Rosa De Los Vientos (Blades: 1996)
His first solo album since an unsuccessful bid for Panama's presidency, Blades recorded the album in that country with an all-Panamanian cast. To make sure you don't miss the point, the title track ends with a recitation of different parts of the country, a nationalistic updating of his earlier celebrations of Latin American unity.
After a break of a few years you'd think he'd have a lot of tunes saved up, but he only writes one song here ("Amor Mudo"), also setting a Mayan manuscript to music. The balance of the disc is turned over to a wide variety of writers, and most of the tunes just aren't very interesting ("Ganas De Verte"). "Sin Querer Queriendo" is the only straightforward salsa track to be found, with most of the rest either ballads ("Tu Mejor Amiga" is the weakest, with a Vegas-style female duet vocal) or cumbias.
I regret to say that I haven't yet developed an appreciation for cumbias, so if you have a taste for that genre you may want to add another star to the rating. There are a few Latin jazz-styled tunes ("Uno Anejo") but they're as unimaginative as the rest. I don't hear anything here that would be a contender for a greatest hits album. (DBW)
Demasiado Corazón (Colón: 1998)
This soundtrack for a Mexican soap opera, finally released in the US in late 2000, is Colón's best record in ten years.
Colón also acted in the show, and apparently it got him fired up again - he even wrote a few songs and played trombone.
The self-penned "Low Rider" puts a killer syncopated piano line and snarling horns against 4/4 drums for one of his most powerful tracks
since the early 70s.
The title track, which Colón wrote with keyboardist Ennio Gatti, is a mournful social comment recalling the late 70s Colón/Blades glory days (and even uses the police sirens last heard in "Pedro Navaja").
However, his third composition, "Mi Cumbia Bomba," comes off like a calculated attempt to create a hit, with a stale
synth groove and excessive nationality-dropping.
After "Low Rider," the fifty-five-second "Intermission" may be the purest fun on the record, a playful instrumental with intertwining trombones.
Even the less intriguing numbers ("Despertares" by frequent contributor Amilcar Boscan) are fast-paced and clever.
When Colón's giving maximum effort he explores material from outside his coterie of writers, and here
he piles trombones onto Joan Manuel Serrat's "Toca Madera," get romantic on Spanish heartthrob Eros Ramazzotti's "Yo Sin Tí," and revisits
Veloso's "Miel" (more swinging than the sedate 1980 version) - there's also a remake of "Cayo Condón."
(DBW)
Tiempos (Blades: 1999)
This gentle, largely acoustic disc is a partial return to form for Blades. The sound is Latin jazz meets New Age,
and several cuts are
instrumentals (the opening "Mar Del Sur" by guest keyboardist Walter Flores). But it's well rendered and tuneful ("Aguacero"), and Blades
returns to thoughtful lyrics of social criticism, of specific ("20 De Diciembre," about the 1989 US invasion of Panama) and general
("Hipocresía") varieties. Still, with Blades writing only eight of the fourteen songs, and not much variety in the arrangements
(three tracks do feature a large string section),
it's not a major work. If you're looking for dance music, stay a mile away, but if you're looking for something to suit a mellow mood,
this could do it. Recorded in Costa Rica.
Backing provided by Editus: Ricardo Ramírez (violin and viola), Edín Solís (guitar), Carlos Vargas (percussion).
(DBW)
Mundo (Blades: 2002)
Blades brings the folk-jazz of the past two releases into a more forceful, danceable context, and it's a blast. There are a bunch
of solid tunes with enthusiastic vocals ("Estampa," "Bochinches")
- even (Pat Metheny and Lyle Mays's toothless "First Circle" gets wordless vocal harmonies. The lyrics are standard
Blades: character sketches ("Sebastian"), love songs ("Ella") and nostalgia ("Como Nosotros"),
all thoughtful and fraught with cosmic implications.
The arrangements show tremendous variety - in particular, Blades's use of regional musics is unclichéd, unpretentious and organic:
"Danny Boy" (done as a 9/11 tribute) moves so smoothly from Irish folk song to Afro-Cuban son you may not notice it happening until it's
over; Argentine group De Boca En Boca adds vocals to "Jiri Son Bali," a traditional song from Malki, and furious Asian rhythms to "El
Capitan Y La Sirena."
An expanded version of Editus includes the players from Tiempos plus Walter Flores (keys; he also co-wrote two songs), Marco Linares (electric
guitar), Marcos Navarro (bass), Carlomagno Araya and Ramses Araya (drums and percussion); Nelson González isn't listed as a band
member, but he adds trés to several numbers.
(DBW)
El Malo Vol II: Prisioneros Del Mambo (Colón: 2008)
That's gotta be one of the longest gaps between Volume I and Volume II in music history. Anyway, I can't accuse Colón of being on autopilot this time: he wrote or co-wrote most of the songs, covering a range of styles - reggae ("Corazón Partido"), merengue ("La Mala Situación") - and tackling social concerns both serious ("Narcomula") and light ("Amor De Internet").
He also finds room for personal statements, from "El Brujo" - self-promotion recalling the first El Malo - to the scathing "Cuando Me Muera."
Most ambitious is the centerpiece "Suite Magía Blanca," which evolves over an eight-minute running time.
The thirteen-minute "Hector Lavoe Medley" is the sort of thing that goes over better in concert, but it's still performed with admirable sharpness.
So basically everything here is praiseworthy except for the tunes themselves, which are unremittingly dull and bloated - unlike so much of Colón's work, here the melodies are ordinary, the breaks are predictable and the transitions are gimmicky ("Amor De Internet").
Arrangers include Colón, Sheller, Infante, and a few others; there's a long list of musicians prominently featuring Meléndez (trombone, bass, synth), Ricky González (piano), Luisito Quintero and Ray Colón (percussion), Luis Bonilla (trombone), Rubén Rodríguez (bass) and Juan Renta (sax).
Available through Colón's own site.
(DBW)
Cantares Del Subdesarrollo (Blades: 2009)
Recorded in 2003 but held back while he was serving a term as Panama's Minister of Tourism. A low-key, largely acoustic record that's as close as Blades has come to Nueva Trova.
It's nice to have his voice spotlighted ("El Tartamudo") - he overdubbed most of the harmony vocals as well - and I'd always rather hear something underproduced than something overproduced. However, the folksy arrangements have a cookie-cutter sameness, as one track after another relies on tres arpeggios in a two-chord progression, backed by a simple refrain: "Las Calles," "El Reto," and so on ad infinitum. The lyrics too are so simple and straightforward they don't say much ("Símbolo").
This won the Latin Singer-Songwriter Grammy but to my mind it's much less interesting and rewarding than his previous effort: listen to them back-to-back and see if you disagree.
(DBW)
Todos Vuelven Live (Blades & Seis del Solar: 2010)
A 2-CD set with all the hits you'd expect, from the Colón era ("Plastico") through his 80s heyday ("Buscando America"; "Decisiones"), with a couple of later tunes ("Amor Y Control"). Also as expected, the band is scrupulously rehearsed and professional (title track). What I wasn't expecting, so late in the game and after such a long layoff, was the attention lavished on each tune: from relative obscurities ("El Padre Antonio Y El Monaguillo Andés") to blockbusters ("Pedro Navaja"), nothing's rushed, as every song is full-length and then some: "Muévete" extends to fifteen minutes, and the intensity level never flags.
Among the other pleasures herein: Oscar Hernández hasn't lost a step as a soloist ("Cuentas Del Alma"); Cheo Feliciano guests on "Juan Pachanga."
(DBW)
