Buika's Naked Side Is Her Only Side

Buika is back, bearing body and soul in the most poignant album of her career. From the risque cover art to the intimacy and rawness of her themes and vocal delivery, Buika has proven yet again that she’s completely surrendered herself to her art – no matter where it may take her. On Niña de Fuego (Girl of Fire) she plunges even deeper into her emotions and emerges in voice to reveal her inner anguish. Traditional coplas (female-centric Spanish torch songs) and fusions of flamenco, jazz, gypsy rumba, and Afro-Cuban rhythms become heart-wrenching songs of despair and love lost. For the first time Buika includes beautifully rendered rancheras in her repertoire, one of which is testament to her own lyrical prowess as a songwriter.

On Niña de Fuego the singer reunites with producer Javier Limón, renowned for the sophisticated flamenco jazz cross-pollinations that he previously brought to highly praised albums by Bebo Valdés and Diego “El Cigala” (Lagrimas Negras) and Paco de Lucía (Cositas Buenas). On Niña de Fuego, Limón is also a musician, unleashing masterful flamenco guitar flourishes accompanied by an A-list lineup that includes Cuban musicians Iván “Melon” Lewis on piano, Horacio “El Negro” Hernández on drums, and Carlitos Sarduy on trumpet. The sound is anchored by Dany Noel on bass with Ramón Porrina and Piraña on percussion.

The eleven-track disc is a collection of classics, songs composed by Limón and David Trueba, and two -- the tender “Miénteme Bien” (Lie To Me Well) and the saucy “Mentirosa” (Liar) -- penned by Buika herself. Both of these touch on similar themes surrounding the false illusions of love. On “Volverás” (You Will Return) Buika is volatile, at first her voice is hazy, almost diaphanous and then it soars in desperate, untamed vocal flights for the return of her lover. Other album highlights include the elegantly soulful opener “La Falsa Moneda” (The Fake Coin) and “Culpa Mía” (My Fault), featuring a voice and palmas intro that climaxes into a swinging Afro-Cuban descarga.

If you missed Buika's performance last year in Miami, don't miss the chance to see her breathtaking show this time around. Buika will be at the Gusman Theater on September 9th, the only scheduled concert in the U.S. so far this year.

Buika's Naked Side Is Her Only Side

Buika is back, bearing body and soul in the most poignant album of her career. From the risque cover art to the intimacy and rawness of her themes and vocal delivery, Buika has proven yet again that she’s completely surrendered herself to her art – no matter where it may take her. On Niña de Fuego (Girl of Fire) she plunges even deeper into her emotions and emerges in voice to reveal her inner anguish. Traditional coplas (female-centric Spanish torch songs) and fusions of flamenco, jazz, gypsy rumba, and Afro-Cuban rhythms become heart-wrenching songs of despair and love lost. For the first time Buika includes beautifully rendered rancheras in her repertoire, one of which is testament to her own lyrical prowess as a songwriter.

On Niña de Fuego the singer reunites with producer Javier Limón, renowned for the sophisticated flamenco jazz cross-pollinations that he previously brought to highly praised albums by Bebo Valdés and Diego “El Cigala” (Lagrimas Negras) and Paco de Lucía (Cositas Buenas). On Niña de Fuego, Limón is also a musician, unleashing masterful flamenco guitar flourishes accompanied by an A-list lineup that includes Cuban musicians Iván “Melon” Lewis on piano, Horacio “El Negro” Hernández on drums, and Carlitos Sarduy on trumpet. The sound is anchored by Dany Noel on bass with Ramón Porrina and Piraña on percussion.

The eleven-track disc is a collection of classics, songs composed by Limón and David Trueba, and two -- the tender “Miénteme Bien” (Lie To Me Well) and the saucy “Mentirosa” (Liar) -- penned by Buika herself. Both of these touch on similar themes surrounding the false illusions of love. On “Volverás” (You Will Return) Buika is volatile, at first her voice is hazy, almost diaphanous and then it soars in desperate, untamed vocal flights for the return of her lover. Other album highlights include the elegantly soulful opener “La Falsa Moneda” (The Fake Coin) and “Culpa Mía” (My Fault), featuring a voice and palmas intro that climaxes into a swinging Afro-Cuban descarga.

If you missed Buika's performance last year in Miami, don't miss the chance to see her breathtaking show this time around. Buika will be at the Gusman Theater on September 9th, the only scheduled concert in the U.S. so far this year.

Introducing Spam Allstars

The Spam Allstars' latest funky little gem of an album -- number six if you've been counting --serves as an introductory crash course into the ways of DJ Le Spam and his motley crew of sonic dreamweavers for those who are oblivious. For those who aren't Introducing Spam Allstars is another delightful trip aboard Miami's funkiest indie outfit. The term descarga takes on a whole new dimension when filtered through the band's sultry mix of improvisational electronica, turntablism, Afro-Cuban music, Latin rhythms, funk, hip-hop, and dub. Le Spam (aka Andrew Yeomanson) is a Canadian-born musician who once played guitar for Cuban-American alt-rocker Nil Lara. He also cut his teeth DJ-ing on a pirate radio station in Miami where he gained a devoted listnership for his deftly executed mixes. The underground radio gig soon translated into a mainstream club gig at Miami's Hoy Como Ayer where musicians of all backgrounds fell under DJ Le Spam's spell. With Adam Zimmon (formerly of Shakira) on guitar, Tomas Diaz on timbales and vocals, AJ Hill (who played with everyone from Sly and the Family Stone to Herbie Hancock) on saxes and vocals, Steve Welsh on saxes, Mercedes Abal from Havana (formerly with Albita) on flute, Chad Bernstein on trombone and vocals and the great Afro-Cuban percussionist Lazaro Alfonso (formerly of Irakere) on congas, DJ Le Spam has assembled a super-charged, A-list posse that has successfully melded what may seem like opposite poles in music -- the organic with the mechanical. "Gallo Pinto," for instance is a retro groove with a backbeat, hustling horns, Afro-Cuban percussion, chekeré, an insistent funk guitar riff, and flute. "Ochimini" is a trance-inducing chant sung in Yoruba and anchored in a rubbery bass line that has the power to suck you in the very potent brew bubbling at the band's core. Another highlight is the more melodious, light-on-your-feet "Afrika," with folkloric call and response embellishments for added exoticism. "Descarga Gusano" starts as an old-school descarga from Cuba's golden age in music but is updated with layers of samples, Latin jazz horn improvisations, drumming, and hand claps. If you haven't fallen under the spell of Spam, now is the time.

Introducing Spam Allstars

The Spam Allstars' latest funky little gem of an album -- number six if you've been counting --serves as an introductory crash course into the ways of DJ Le Spam and his motley crew of sonic dreamweavers for those who are oblivious. For those who aren't Introducing Spam Allstars is another delightful trip aboard Miami's funkiest indie outfit. The term descarga takes on a whole new dimension when filtered through the band's sultry mix of improvisational electronica, turntablism, Afro-Cuban music, Latin rhythms, funk, hip-hop, and dub. Le Spam (aka Andrew Yeomanson) is a Canadian-born musician who once played guitar for Cuban-American alt-rocker Nil Lara. He also cut his teeth DJ-ing on a pirate radio station in Miami where he gained a devoted listnership for his deftly executed mixes. The underground radio gig soon translated into a mainstream club gig at Miami's Hoy Como Ayer where musicians of all backgrounds fell under DJ Le Spam's spell. With Adam Zimmon (formerly of Shakira) on guitar, Tomas Diaz on timbales and vocals, AJ Hill (who played with everyone from Sly and the Family Stone to Herbie Hancock) on saxes and vocals, Steve Welsh on saxes, Mercedes Abal from Havana (formerly with Albita) on flute, Chad Bernstein on trombone and vocals and the great Afro-Cuban percussionist Lazaro Alfonso (formerly of Irakere) on congas, DJ Le Spam has assembled a super-charged, A-list posse that has successfully melded what may seem like opposite poles in music -- the organic with the mechanical. "Gallo Pinto," for instance is a retro groove with a backbeat, hustling horns, Afro-Cuban percussion, chekeré, an insistent funk guitar riff, and flute. "Ochimini" is a trance-inducing chant sung in Yoruba and anchored in a rubbery bass line that has the power to suck you in the very potent brew bubbling at the band's core. Another highlight is the more melodious, light-on-your-feet "Afrika," with folkloric call and response embellishments for added exoticism. "Descarga Gusano" starts as an old-school descarga from Cuba's golden age in music but is updated with layers of samples, Latin jazz horn improvisations, drumming, and hand claps. If you haven't fallen under the spell of Spam, now is the time.

Dreaming About the F Train

Well boys and girls, I've almost recuperated from last week's action-packed four days of music, debauchery, and moments of outright perplexity as I navigated through the streets of New York and experienced the exhiliration of live music in some of the city's hippest dives. The Latin Alternative Music Conference pulled out all the stops this year, it's ninth, showcasing performances by some of the most cutting-edge artists in the genre I hate to call a genre just becasue it's so damn inclusive and unrestrained it defies all categorization. Besides, labels are so passé. The conference was bristling with emerging and established acts from across the Americas and Spain, as well as the usual coterie of industry people. I gotta admit though I skipped out on all the hobnobbing and panels to partake in a little urban exploration -- sometimes alone, other times in the company of my cousin Patricia, who is rather halirious in that singular Miami Cuban meets New York kind of way. So rather than sit in the ballroom at Midtown's Roosevelt Hotel on day two, for instance, to hear movers and shakers representing Billboard, IODA, and Universal Latino, amongst others, discuss whether or not a record label can be outsourced - too much for me - I grabbed some Chinese and took the subway to the Lower East Side where I hung out with some very cool people from Nublu Records, one of the most happenin' labels in town, if not the country.

But I'll start with day one, a day that began with a visit to the Met and ended with me getting lost in Brooklyn Heights at around 3AM. In between I registered for the conference at The Roosevelt, got together with my editor from Global Rhythm over a few beers at a chilled-out bar on 36th St. (between 5th and Madison) called Under the Volcano, and eventually made my way to Lower Manhattan's Mercury Lounge on Houston Street. The GoTV Indie Showcase featured performances by Forro In The Dark, Zigmat, Pilar Diaz, Don Tetto, Afrobeta, and Guajiro. But I took the F train in the wrong direction and almost ended up in Queens. Arriving late and hungry, by the time I set foot in the Mercury, Brazil's Forro In The Dark had already played to my dismay. The band was formed spontaneously about five years ago when a group of musicians came together to play Wednesday nights at Nublu, a diminutive Lower East Side club that also spawned dance/electronica group The Brazilian Girls, who coincidentally was featured at LAMC. But more about Forro In The Dark, The Brazilian Girls and Nublu later. I caught the last two song's from L.A.-based songstress Pilar Diaz's set. The Chilean-born vocalist is launching her solo career after cutting loose from the bilingual new wave outfit Los Abandoned. I thought "Ilegal," with it's overpowering bassline and punk attitude in reflecting on the underworld of immigrant smuggling across the border was bold, both in message and sound.

After that I decided to grab a bite at the famous Kat'z Delicatessen nearby, you know the eatery where Meg Ryan does her fake orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally. Well that's great and all but I must've been on crack cause I ended up spending $20 on a pastrami sandwich and a can of Diet Coke. As I wrestled with the oversized sandwich I missed Zigmat, another band that plays at Nublu but has yet to ink a deal. Next up was Miami-based electro-pop trio Afrobeta, whose lead singer took the stage in a blond afro wig. They made a lot of noise and got me thinking that electro-pop is becoming a hackneyed trend, overused as a substitute for true musicianship. After their set I walked a couple of blocks to the Forro In The Dark after party at Nublu where I filled my cup on musicianship and some ass shakin' to top it off. The narrow, little club under a blue light, at some point grew into a record label that signs bands and collectives like the aforementioned Brazilian ensemble that plays a variation of forró, Wax Poetic, 3 Na Massa, Nublu Orchestra, Love Trio, and other sonically refreshing projects. It was great to be in a club where everybody was dancing in very close proximity to each other, getting their groove on to Forro In The Dark's blend of northeastern rhythms and urban grit. I danced so much that tributaries of sweat began running down my back. I made it back to Brooklyn Heights in one piece, but I must have lost my sense of direction due to exhaustion, getting lost within the radius of a couple of blocks. As I walked around in circles during ungodly hours, I noticed a black sedan with tinted windows slowing down behind me. I thought this is it, and imagined myself hogtied and stuffed in the trunk of a car. Finally I came upon some city workers spreading gravel on the roads and asked a black guy with a cherubic face, all coy 'n shit if he knew where Atlantic Avenue was located. He said yes, but after I asked him to point me in the right direction he responded with an arctic ice dry no. Motherfucker, I said, no wonder you're here raking gravel at 3 o'clock in the morning, bitch. Then like a miracle I turned around to see Atlantic. It was a celestial thing to see that little green sign, hanging from the electrical lines in the dead of the night, like a light in the tunnel.

Thursday, day two: More roaming the streets, particularly the Lower East Side, which I became enamored with. I imagined what it must have been like at the turn of the century in the era of the tenements and the different ethnic groups marking their territories. At night I found myself at the Bowery Ballroom on 6 Delancy St., not far from were the legendary CBGB's once stood. Spanish power punk-ska outfit La Pulqueria opened the showcase with a hard-driving, energetic set. The seven-piece band from Valencia blew the audience away with its full-throttle sound, which included a plaintive trumpet and trombone section, hyperkinetic drumming, electric guitar thrashing, funk bass forays, and a lead singer bursting with onstage bravado. They were followed by Mexico City psychedelic punk-rock, electro-pop outfit Los Fancy Free. Uniformly dressed, the band delivered quirky, enigmatic soundscapes and frontman Martin Thulin, a.k.a. Menonita Rock, even jumped from the stage and sang in the crowd during a song about global warming. The night climaxed with a breathtaking performance by 22-year-old singer/songwriter Ximena Sariñana. Following her #1 Mexico debut, Mediocre, in February, the starlet-turned-musician dropped her buzzworthy album in the U.S. on July 15. Sariñana's Bowery gig was her first ever performance in NYC and she lived up to all the hype surrounding her release. Fiona Apple en español? Maybe so. But behind the childlike demeanor, quirkiness, and indie-appeal, there's something remarkably mature and very Latin about Sariñana's music. She was a tough act to follow, but it didn't stop Alex Cuba from going on with his barebones band comprised of himself on guitar, a bass player, and a drummer. What the Cuban-bred singer/songwriter lacked in sonic muscle, he made up for with his enveloping vocals. An irony given that in his native Cuba, the British Columbia-based artist never made it far as a singer. Some of the kids in the audience didn't respond well to Cuba's simplified format but he seemed relaxed and at ease in transmitting his soulful, guitar-fueled pop songs. I was rooting for 'em though, and singing along to each and every song from his latest album, Agua Del Pozo.

Friday, day three: I actually worked on day three. I stopped by The Roosevelt to check on Alex Cuba, whose interview I had to move up, and then made my way down, on the F train, to Sound Generation. There I interviewed Ximena Sariñana right before her on air interview with L.A.-based tastemaker station KCRW's Nic Harcourt (from Morning Becomes Eclectic), in between live sets. It was Sariñana's American radio debut and I was witnessing history, for whatever that's worth. The live music and interview with Harcourt was being transmitted live into L.A., from New York of course. It was very cool. But even cooler was having legendary Argentine producer Tweety Gonzalez (Soda Stereo, Gustavo Cerati) sitting next to me on a couch, sorrounded by the siren's entourage, a sound engineer, label people, publicists, and radio personalities. I got a chance to chat with Tweety about Ximena, since he co-produced the album along with Uruguayan producer Juan Campodonico (Jorge Drexler, Bajofondo). But we also talked briefly about his other projects, and Cuban music. The short, 15 minute tête-a- tête was definitely one of the highnotes of my trip. I headed back to Midtown to interview Alex over an ice cold beer. Look out for that Q&A right here soon.

So my cousin and I did some bonding Friday night, while she bonded on the side with facebook via her blackberry. I'm hooked and I don't even have a blackberry or facebook... not yet anyway. We arrived late to the Celebrate Brookyln Show at the Prospect Park Bandshell and I missed Chicha Libre's performance... story of my life. The Brazilian Girls was already playing. They played some songs from their upcoming CD New York City and as the enigmatic lead singer Sabina Sciubba floated around stage in a puffy white outfit that looked like something Bjork would wear, I couldn't help but think she seemed like a cloud hovering in some remote sonic plane, totally disconnected from the rest of the band. The most memorable song of the set was "Pussy" from the band's 2005 self-titled album. As Sciubba taunted pussy, pussy, pussy marijuana, my cousin turned around and saw a very middle-aged couple, dressed in a perversely conservative manner, like midwestern breadbasket, or southern baptist conservative. Unsure if they had just heard what they thought they had just heard, they seemed totally out of place, as if they had just been dropped there from like another planet, and then Sciubba sang it again, and again, and again, and reality began to set in. I still LOL when I think about it. The night got better. We headed to the Lower East Side, Nublu to be more specific, laughing hysterically. We chilled at Nublu for a little while and spent time taking pictures of ourselves. From there it was off to an above ground, underground party at a loft in the Meatpacking District, a totally un-LAMC-related party. The place was a fire hazard, to use P's words. But there were awesome views of the city streets below from the tall windows and we made good use of the dancefloor. The highlight of the night was the elevator man. On our way out it seemed like we had transformed into a pack of wolves, along with other women, as we waited impatiently for the hot elevator man to transport us down. When he finally appeared we all cheered to the annoyance of a few innocent male bystanders who couldn't help but role their eyes. The elevator man unanimously became the Meatpacking District's most preyed upon carnivirous delight.

Saturday, day four: Woke up late, had a big breakfast. Did minimal shopping at SoHo and got a frontseat view of some criminal activity out on the street as a cop chased down a dude who apparently had either stolen something or was busted in a drug deal. We noticed some other undercover cops dressed as civilians involved in the chase that unfolded in the middle of the street. The cop managed to grab the guy and take him down as the entire block momentarily paused. Some people took videos and photos on their camera phones. Lovely prelude to the last LAMC show of the week featuring DJ Bitman, Plastilina Mosh, and Julieta Venegas in Central Park's Summerstage Show at Rumsey Playfield. You guessed it... we arrived late, but at least I caught all of PMosh's set, and we left early, only staying for Venegas' first three songs. I wrote the cover story on Plastilina Mosh for Batanga Latin Music's next issue so I was super excited to see them live. But of course they didn't play any of the new songs off their upcoming album All U Need Is Mosh, so that was disappointing. Still the duo from Monterrey, backed by a band, rocked the stage and deftly went from heavy guitar, fist-pumping rock to hip-hop, electronica, and funk, delivered with sense of humor and total irreverence. After the show we feasted on Vietnamese food and had more laughs as we walked through Tribeca, Little Italy, and I forget where else, but I got the foot and heel blisters to proove it. I love New York.

Dreaming About the F Train

Well boys and girls, I've almost recuperated from last week's action-packed four days of music, debauchery, and moments of outright perplexity as I navigated through the streets of New York and experienced the exhiliration of live music in some of the city's hippest dives. The Latin Alternative Music Conference pulled out all the stops this year, it's ninth, showcasing performances by some of the most cutting-edge artists in the genre I hate to call a genre just becasue it's so damn inclusive and unrestrained it defies all categorization. Besides, labels are so passé. The conference was bristling with emerging and established acts from across the Americas and Spain, as well as the usual coterie of industry people. I gotta admit though I skipped out on all the hobnobbing and panels to partake in a little urban exploration -- sometimes alone, other times in the company of my cousin Patricia, who is rather halirious in that singular Miami Cuban meets New York kind of way. So rather than sit in the ballroom at Midtown's Roosevelt Hotel on day two, for instance, to hear movers and shakers representing Billboard, IODA, and Universal Latino, amongst others, discuss whether or not a record label can be outsourced - too much for me - I grabbed some Chinese and took the subway to the Lower East Side where I hung out with some very cool people from Nublu Records, one of the most happenin' labels in town, if not the country.

But I'll start with day one, a day that began with a visit to the Met and ended with me getting lost in Brooklyn Heights at around 3AM. In between I registered for the conference at The Roosevelt, got together with my editor from Global Rhythm over a few beers at a chilled-out bar on 36th St. (between 5th and Madison) called Under the Volcano, and eventually made my way to Lower Manhattan's Mercury Lounge on Houston Street. The GoTV Indie Showcase featured performances by Forro In The Dark, Zigmat, Pilar Diaz, Don Tetto, Afrobeta, and Guajiro. But I took the F train in the wrong direction and almost ended up in Queens. Arriving late and hungry, by the time I set foot in the Mercury, Brazil's Forro In The Dark had already played to my dismay. The band was formed spontaneously about five years ago when a group of musicians came together to play Wednesday nights at Nublu, a diminutive Lower East Side club that also spawned dance/electronica group The Brazilian Girls, who coincidentally was featured at LAMC. But more about Forro In The Dark, The Brazilian Girls and Nublu later. I caught the last two song's from L.A.-based songstress Pilar Diaz's set. The Chilean-born vocalist is launching her solo career after cutting loose from the bilingual new wave outfit Los Abandoned. I thought "Ilegal," with it's overpowering bassline and punk attitude in reflecting on the underworld of immigrant smuggling across the border was bold, both in message and sound.

After that I decided to grab a bite at the famous Kat'z Delicatessen nearby, you know the eatery where Meg Ryan does her fake orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally. Well that's great and all but I must've been on crack cause I ended up spending $20 on a pastrami sandwich and a can of Diet Coke. As I wrestled with the oversized sandwich I missed Zigmat, another band that plays at Nublu but has yet to ink a deal. Next up was Miami-based electro-pop trio Afrobeta, whose lead singer took the stage in a blond afro wig. They made a lot of noise and got me thinking that electro-pop is becoming a hackneyed trend, overused as a substitute for true musicianship. After their set I walked a couple of blocks to the Forro In The Dark after party at Nublu where I filled my cup on musicianship and some ass shakin' to top it off. The narrow, little club under a blue light, at some point grew into a record label that signs bands and collectives like the aforementioned Brazilian ensemble that plays a variation of forró, Wax Poetic, 3 Na Massa, Nublu Orchestra, Love Trio, and other sonically refreshing projects. It was great to be in a club where everybody was dancing in very close proximity to each other, getting their groove on to Forro In The Dark's blend of northeastern rhythms and urban grit. I danced so much that tributaries of sweat began running down my back. I made it back to Brooklyn Heights in one piece, but I must have lost my sense of direction due to exhaustion, getting lost within the radius of a couple of blocks. As I walked around in circles during ungodly hours, I noticed a black sedan with tinted windows slowing down behind me. I thought this is it, and imagined myself hogtied and stuffed in the trunk of a car. Finally I came upon some city workers spreading gravel on the roads and asked a black guy with a cherubic face, all coy 'n shit if he knew where Atlantic Avenue was located. He said yes, but after I asked him to point me in the right direction he responded with an arctic ice dry no. Motherfucker, I said, no wonder you're here raking gravel at 3 o'clock in the morning, bitch. Then like a miracle I turned around to see Atlantic. It was a celestial thing to see that little green sign, hanging from the electrical lines in the dead of the night, like a light in the tunnel.

Thursday, day two: More roaming the streets, particularly the Lower East Side, which I became enamored with. I imagined what it must have been like at the turn of the century in the era of the tenements and the different ethnic groups marking their territories. At night I found myself at the Bowery Ballroom on 6 Delancy St., not far from were the legendary CBGB's once stood. Spanish power punk-ska outfit La Pulqueria opened the showcase with a hard-driving, energetic set. The seven-piece band from Valencia blew the audience away with its full-throttle sound, which included a plaintive trumpet and trombone section, hyperkinetic drumming, electric guitar thrashing, funk bass forays, and a lead singer bursting with onstage bravado. They were followed by Mexico City psychedelic punk-rock, electro-pop outfit Los Fancy Free. Uniformly dressed, the band delivered quirky, enigmatic soundscapes and frontman Martin Thulin, a.k.a. Menonita Rock, even jumped from the stage and sang in the crowd during a song about global warming. The night climaxed with a breathtaking performance by 22-year-old singer/songwriter Ximena Sariñana. Following her #1 Mexico debut, Mediocre, in February, the starlet-turned-musician dropped her buzzworthy album in the U.S. on July 15. Sariñana's Bowery gig was her first ever performance in NYC and she lived up to all the hype surrounding her release. Fiona Apple en español? Maybe so. But behind the childlike demeanor, quirkiness, and indie-appeal, there's something remarkably mature and very Latin about Sariñana's music. She was a tough act to follow, but it didn't stop Alex Cuba from going on with his barebones band comprised of himself on guitar, a bass player, and a drummer. What the Cuban-bred singer/songwriter lacked in sonic muscle, he made up for with his enveloping vocals. An irony given that in his native Cuba, the British Columbia-based artist never made it far as a singer. Some of the kids in the audience didn't respond well to Cuba's simplified format but he seemed relaxed and at ease in transmitting his soulful, guitar-fueled pop songs. I was rooting for 'em though, and singing along to each and every song from his latest album, Agua Del Pozo.

Friday, day three: I actually worked on day three. I stopped by The Roosevelt to check on Alex Cuba, whose interview I had to move up, and then made my way down, on the F train, to Sound Generation. There I interviewed Ximena Sariñana right before her on air interview with L.A.-based tastemaker station KCRW's Nic Harcourt (from Morning Becomes Eclectic), in between live sets. It was Sariñana's American radio debut and I was witnessing history, for whatever that's worth. The live music and interview with Harcourt was being transmitted live into L.A., from New York of course. It was very cool. But even cooler was having legendary Argentine producer Tweety Gonzalez (Soda Stereo, Gustavo Cerati) sitting next to me on a couch, sorrounded by the siren's entourage, a sound engineer, label people, publicists, and radio personalities. I got a chance to chat with Tweety about Ximena, since he co-produced the album along with Uruguayan producer Juan Campodonico (Jorge Drexler, Bajofondo). But we also talked briefly about his other projects, and Cuban music. The short, 15 minute tête-a- tête was definitely one of the highnotes of my trip. I headed back to Midtown to interview Alex over an ice cold beer. Look out for that Q&A right here soon.

So my cousin and I did some bonding Friday night, while she bonded on the side with facebook via her blackberry. I'm hooked and I don't even have a blackberry or facebook... not yet anyway. We arrived late to the Celebrate Brookyln Show at the Prospect Park Bandshell and I missed Chicha Libre's performance... story of my life. The Brazilian Girls was already playing. They played some songs from their upcoming CD New York City and as the enigmatic lead singer Sabina Sciubba floated around stage in a puffy white outfit that looked like something Bjork would wear, I couldn't help but think she seemed like a cloud hovering in some remote sonic plane, totally disconnected from the rest of the band. The most memorable song of the set was "Pussy" from the band's 2005 self-titled album. As Sciubba taunted pussy, pussy, pussy marijuana, my cousin turned around and saw a very middle-aged couple, dressed in a perversely conservative manner, like midwestern breadbasket, or southern baptist conservative. Unsure if they had just heard what they thought they had just heard, they seemed totally out of place, as if they had just been dropped there from like another planet, and then Sciubba sang it again, and again, and again, and reality began to set in. I still LOL when I think about it. The night got better. We headed to the Lower East Side, Nublu to be more specific, laughing hysterically. We chilled at Nublu for a little while and spent time taking pictures of ourselves. From there it was off to an above ground, underground party at a loft in the Meatpacking District, a totally un-LAMC-related party. The place was a fire hazard, to use P's words. But there were awesome views of the city streets below from the tall windows and we made good use of the dancefloor. The highlight of the night was the elevator man. On our way out it seemed like we had transformed into a pack of wolves, along with other women, as we waited impatiently for the hot elevator man to transport us down. When he finally appeared we all cheered to the annoyance of a few innocent male bystanders who couldn't help but role their eyes. The elevator man unanimously became the Meatpacking District's most preyed upon carnivirous delight.

Saturday, day four: Woke up late, had a big breakfast. Did minimal shopping at SoHo and got a frontseat view of some criminal activity out on the street as a cop chased down a dude who apparently had either stolen something or was busted in a drug deal. We noticed some other undercover cops dressed as civilians involved in the chase that unfolded in the middle of the street. The cop managed to grab the guy and take him down as the entire block momentarily paused. Some people took videos and photos on their camera phones. Lovely prelude to the last LAMC show of the week featuring DJ Bitman, Plastilina Mosh, and Julieta Venegas in Central Park's Summerstage Show at Rumsey Playfield. You guessed it... we arrived late, but at least I caught all of PMosh's set, and we left early, only staying for Venegas' first three songs. I wrote the cover story on Plastilina Mosh for Batanga Latin Music's next issue so I was super excited to see them live. But of course they didn't play any of the new songs off their upcoming album All U Need Is Mosh, so that was disappointing. Still the duo from Monterrey, backed by a band, rocked the stage and deftly went from heavy guitar, fist-pumping rock to hip-hop, electronica, and funk, delivered with sense of humor and total irreverence. After the show we feasted on Vietnamese food and had more laughs as we walked through Tribeca, Little Italy, and I forget where else, but I got the foot and heel blisters to proove it. I love New York.

Almost 90 Cuban Music Legend Bebo Valdes Cuts A New Album

One of the greatest days of my career as a freelance music journalist was the time I interviewed Cuban music legend Bebo Valdés back when he was an octogenarian. It was an over the phone interview. I was in Tampa and Bebo was in Málaga, Spain, the connection was horrible, and Valdés' voice came across faint and hoarse. But there were moments in which we both shared a laugh or two and I remember an uninhibited, energetic, and generous laugh that to me defines the essence of the master's long and storied journey through music. The article from that interview was published in Global Rhythm magazine and you can read it by going to this link:

http://www.globalrhythm.net/WorldMusicLegends/BeboValds.cfm

Now on the verge of turning 90, the seven-time Grammy-winning statesman, father of Chucho Valdés, an illustrious pianist in his own right, is releasing yet another album. Accompanied by bassist Javier Colina, Bebo drops his much anticipated, Live at the Village Vanguard (Calle 54) on September 2, 2008.

Not just any stage, New York City's Village Vanguard is a mythical venue that has attracted jazz giants since it opened in 1935. Demigods of the caliber of John Coltrane, Dizzy Gillespie, Sonny Rollins, Keith Jarrett, McCoy Tyner, Gerry Mulligan, Stan Getz and Bill Evans, who Bebo Valdés remembers on this album, have all recorded live sets at the Vanguard.

Live at the Village Vanguard contains 14 songs, stripped down to piano and bass, recorded in November of 2005. From compositions written by Bebo Valdés (Con Poco Coco, Ritmando El Cha-Cha-Cha, Bebo's Blues) to classics by Ernesto Lecuona (Andalucía, Siboney), via ageless boleros or bolero-tinged songs (Sabor A Mí, Aquellos Ojos Verdes, Tres Palabras, Rosa Mustia, Si Te Contara). There's also a composition by Jerome Kern (Yesterdays) and a few popular classics (Bilongo, El Manisero), without forgetting such monuments as "Waltz For Debby," originally recorded in 1961 by its composer Bill Evans on the same stage.

A lifetime of wisdom and rich musical influences unfolded in one night on one magical stage, all captured on one exceptional album: Bebo Valdés & Javier Colina: Live at the Village Vanguard.

Almost 90 Cuban Music Legend Bebo Valdes Cuts A New Album

One of the greatest days of my career as a freelance music journalist was the time I interviewed Cuban music legend Bebo Valdés back when he was an octogenarian. It was an over the phone interview. I was in Tampa and Bebo was in Málaga, Spain, the connection was horrible, and Valdés' voice came across faint and hoarse. But there were moments in which we both shared a laugh or two and I remember an uninhibited, energetic, and generous laugh that to me defines the essence of the master's long and storied journey through music. The article from that interview was published in Global Rhythm magazine and you can read it by going to this link:

http://www.globalrhythm.net/WorldMusicLegends/BeboValds.cfm

Now on the verge of turning 90, the seven-time Grammy-winning statesman, father of Chucho Valdés, an illustrious pianist in his own right, is releasing yet another album. Accompanied by bassist Javier Colina, Bebo drops his much anticipated, Live at the Village Vanguard (Calle 54) on September 2, 2008.

Not just any stage, New York City's Village Vanguard is a mythical venue that has attracted jazz giants since it opened in 1935. Demigods of the caliber of John Coltrane, Dizzy Gillespie, Sonny Rollins, Keith Jarrett, McCoy Tyner, Gerry Mulligan, Stan Getz and Bill Evans, who Bebo Valdés remembers on this album, have all recorded live sets at the Vanguard.

Live at the Village Vanguard contains 14 songs, stripped down to piano and bass, recorded in November of 2005. From compositions written by Bebo Valdés (Con Poco Coco, Ritmando El Cha-Cha-Cha, Bebo's Blues) to classics by Ernesto Lecuona (Andalucía, Siboney), via ageless boleros or bolero-tinged songs (Sabor A Mí, Aquellos Ojos Verdes, Tres Palabras, Rosa Mustia, Si Te Contara). There's also a composition by Jerome Kern (Yesterdays) and a few popular classics (Bilongo, El Manisero), without forgetting such monuments as "Waltz For Debby," originally recorded in 1961 by its composer Bill Evans on the same stage.

A lifetime of wisdom and rich musical influences unfolded in one night on one magical stage, all captured on one exceptional album: Bebo Valdés & Javier Colina: Live at the Village Vanguard.

The Roots of Jazz

From Delta blues to Afro-Cuban music to cumbia, The Paul Carlon Octet plays roots music from a jazz perspective. On Roots Propaganda (Deep Tone) the end result flows naturally. There's a contagious, warm vintage feel resonating from this recording that I found to be very inviting. Maybe it's Carlon's arranging approach, reminiscent of the way Duke Ellington would write parts to fit the individual musical nuances of each member in his big band. On Roots Propaganda distinct elements meld into a harmonious whole. There's also a spiritual quality to some of the tracks, a few of which are even named after Yoruba deities from the Afro-Cuban pantheon, like "Ochun," in honor of the orisha of love, midway through the album. Vocalist Christelle Durandy nails every track she's featured in, from the swinging, trumpet and trombone infused intro "Backstory," to the closer "Yorubonics," beautifully sung in Yoruba and layered with soulful electric guitar and elegant piano. There's a call and response toward the end with the brass section acting as the responding chorus to Durandy's melodic chants. The effect is very cool.

The Roots of Jazz

From Delta blues to Afro-Cuban music to cumbia, The Paul Carlon Octet plays roots music from a jazz perspective. On Roots Propaganda (Deep Tone) the end result flows naturally. There's a contagious, warm vintage feel resonating from this recording that I found to be very inviting. Maybe it's Carlon's arranging approach, reminiscent of the way Duke Ellington would write parts to fit the individual musical nuances of each member in his big band. On Roots Propaganda distinct elements meld into a harmonious whole. There's also a spiritual quality to some of the tracks, a few of which are even named after Yoruba deities from the Afro-Cuban pantheon, like "Ochun," in honor of the orisha of love, midway through the album. Vocalist Christelle Durandy nails every track she's featured in, from the swinging, trumpet and trombone infused intro "Backstory," to the closer "Yorubonics," beautifully sung in Yoruba and layered with soulful electric guitar and elegant piano. There's a call and response toward the end with the brass section acting as the responding chorus to Durandy's melodic chants. The effect is very cool.