Reconsideration in the Face of Tumult

As I’ve made clear in certain previous scribing, my preference is, was and always will be music that is traditional or very nearly so. It appears, however, that my definition of “very nearly so” has become more open-minded, given that some of what I’m covering here strays further from tradition than what my formerly more highfaluting stance would have embraced. Call it an altered state of mind coinciding with the altered state(s) of reality in the world today, perhaps the result of music’s healing power being more needed now than ever before. 

My knowledge of traditional Korean music runs none too deep, but a band helpfully named Coreyah makes that fact a non-issue on Clap & Applause (Plankto Music, 2020). This exquisitely attuned ensemble doesn’t rush into any electrified breakouts that instantly scream contemporary. Indeed, the slow-building, chant-like 11 and a half minutes of “Baksusori” that begin the album could easily pass for a perfectly captured field recording.

Pieces with translated titles more geared to the imaginations of global listeners (“Till the Dawn,” “How Far You’ve Come,” “Escape”) blend South Korean zither, flute and drum sounds with guitar that sounds like Justin Adams busking in Seoul, percussion from various locales, vocals capable of leaping from incantatory to absolutely soaring in nothing flat and seamless changes in tempo and ambiance that never reflect too heavily on the music’s country of origin. This wonderfully engaging disc is borderline impossible to describe. It rocks, it soothes, it invokes and it’s a treat throughout. 

Much has been said about the connections between country music and reggae music. I won’t elaborate on the extent to which I believe those connections to be valid (or not) but I do very much like the the eponymous debut album by Florida-based Papa Rosko (Voodoo Possum Records, 2020). Sure, he’s got some pop, hip hop and soul colors in his reggae, but it’s the grainy twang of his vocals (and some of the instruments) that make the country angle the sharpest.

Rosko’s social commentary, as when he blasts bullshit pretending to be fact on “NooZies,” can be pretty damn sharp as well. But love songs are abundant, and Rosko’s collaborations with Gyptian on “When You Say Nothing at All” and AJ Brown on “You’re Not the Only One” hit the mark by being heartfelt and sincere where they easily could have been overwrought and maudlin. And then there’s the opening duet with the late Toots Hibbert, a cover of “Folsom Prison Blues” that ups the tune’s status as a classic. Some of this is reggae in the strictest sense and some of it is certainly not, but it’s a great listen either way. 

While not getting the same sort of spotlight as many traditionally-rooted Cuban music masters, Kiki Valera works the cuatro and guitar with an expertise born out of many years playing with a renowned family band. He also lent a close ear to jazz players like Pat Metheny, which accounts for the free flowing edge in many of his riffs and solos.

Vivencias en Clave Cubana (Origin Records, 2019) has got Cuban son and campesino rhythms locked up tight, and the suavely charismatic lead vocals of Valera’s old pal Coco Freeman take tradition to warm new heights with the same ease as Valera’s string-caressing fingers. The additions of bass, trumpet, percussion and chorus vocals are a link to both African roots and Western refining, helping make this collection of new and old son, guaracha, trova and bolero compositions (recorded in Seattle, interestingly enough) a glowing delight from beginning to end.

Rising Cape Verdean songstress Elida Almeida gives the often-relaxed sway of her homeland’s music an upward tick in tempo and electronic framing with Gerasonobu (Lusafrica, 2020). So you get Ameida’s youthful but wizened vocals putting forth the heart-caressing feel necessary to make a stripped down coladeira like “Obrigadu Papa” get under layers of skin you didn’t know you had, plus lively dances including the rousing opener “Bidibido” and “Di Pundi Nu Bem” as reminders of Cape Verde’s close proximity to the rest of West Africa.

Plugged in to move you onto dance floors beyond strictly Lusaphone borders, some of the tracks bring to mind the sort of modernization that turned calypso into soca a few decades ago. That’s not a bad thing at all, particularly given the level of intimate Cape Verdean soul the disc retains. It’s lyrically timely as well, taking on such topics as the superficiality of social media.

And when you’re listening to music from a vast country in which the traditional sounds have been open to outside influences for decades, the deck has already been stacked at least partially in favor of the non-traditional listener. The extensive catalogue of the ever-reliable Putumayo label has included some crackling Brazilian collections, and the latest of these is Brazil: Samba, Bossa and Beyond! (Putumayo, 2020). It starts off with Vania Abreu covering Djavan’s “Embola Bola” in that wonderfully Africanized style we’ve come to expect from singers hailing from Salvador, Bahia.

Other deeply rooted charmers abound (including Dende & Band’s praise song to the warrior god Ogum), though there are also hypnotic diversions including Bia’s almost Parisian-sounding “Beijo,” Sambasonics’ electrified polyrhythmic assault and Aricia Mess’ concluding “Batuque e Reza Forte,” a spirited declaration of how powerful such rhythms can be. A first rate collection, one that’s revisited my CD player numerous times.

Author: Tom Orr

Tom Orr is a California-based writer whose talent and mental stability are of an equally questionable nature. His hobbies include ignoring trends, striking dramatic poses in front of his ever-tolerant wife and watching helplessly as his kids surpass him in all desirable traits.