El Embrujo Inconfundible de Mi Sol: On Rita Indiana’s Diasporic Return Anthem “La hora de volvé”

   By Verónica Bayetti Flores | Nov 12th, 2019

    Artwork by Alonso Ayala (@ouchal)

¿Quién quiere estar comiendo mierda y hielo cuando puede estar bailando algo mejor?

The most devastating irony of classic xenophobic insult “go back where you came from” is arguably that many – maybe even most – of us wish deeply to do exactly that, but just...can’t. It’s almost a cliché for immigrants and their children – the return fantasy. Hitting this tender nerve, Rita Indiana crafted one of the best songs of the last decade, full stop: the diasporic return anthem “La hora de volvé.”

Rita Indiana y Los Misterios’ El Juidero came out in the fall of 2010, a masterpiece ahead of its time. The album is a glorious cacophony of güira, tambora, and synths, the driving alt-merengue diasporic Caribbean weirdos everywhere had been waiting for. It’s not exactly that it had never been done before: Rita Indiana herself engaged in initial explorations of this sound with Miti Miti – whose 2008 album Altar Espandex teased at the glory that would be El Juidero – and Maluca’s “El Tigeraso” played with alternative merengue in 2009. But what you must understand about Rita Indiana is that she is quite literally a novelist; her facility with words, her poetry, her narrative ability are a thing of sublime beauty, and the lyrics on El Juidero are nothing short of rhapsodic. Nine years later, I haven’t found a lyricist that, for me, captures the same intoxicating mix of Caribbean humor and flow with metaphors that elucidate quotidian experiences in a way so alive as to render them an almost visual experience. An allegory for the hardships, joys, and everyday absurdity of diasporic life, El Juidero explores leaving home, exploitation, love, everyday microaggressions, and, of course, return.

Salir pa’llá pa’ después darme cuenta que no hay de na’

Before migrating here, the United States we know is the United States of television – a glossy fantasy where everyone is financially comfortable and lives in homes with wild luxuries like garbage disposals, carpeting, and multiple stories. This is the dream we’re chasing when we come here, but what awaits immigrants, more often than not, is much less glamorous: xenophobia, racism, back-breaking work, y un frío del demonio that threatens to mentally break those of us used to more gentle temperatures.

Similar to its thematic predecessor – Gloria Estefan’s classic 1992 diasporic longing anthem “Mi Tierra” – “La hora de volvé” speaks to the pull of one’s homeland. But while “Mi Tierra” focuses almost exclusively on the beauty of home, Indiana’s modern, arguably more honest rendering highlights a different motivation for returning: how deeply uncomfortable it is to exist in a place where no one wants you.

In the visual, Rita Indiana and her crew of dancers and musicians are in a surrealist space landscape. Dodging rocks and strange animals, it’s not unlike finding yourself lost somewhere magical and strange where you’ve made a home nonetheless, dancing to the rhythm of life the only way you know how.

“Subiste nevera con cinco vaca a’entro,” she sings, and I think about what metaphorical cows I’ve been carrying in the heavy refrigerator of migrant life.

Coge un avión coño, una yola al revés

There’s nothing quite like diasporic longing for home, but for most of us, a fantasy is all it is. Returning is either impossible or stupid – because we don’t have the money or the visa, because our careers aren’t viable at home, because the global economic violence that sent us here in the first place has ravaged home so badly that eeking out a meager existence there is nearly impossible for most people. Logistics aside, the reality of return is much more complicated than a triumphant homecoming. Maybe you’re gay and it’s awkward, maybe when you’re home you miss some other kind of food that you got used to that you can’t access there, maybe when you finally get back you realize you’re actually in some hopeless ni de aquí ni de allá limbo and your longing for home isn’t cured after all.

But “La hora de volvé” gives life to the fantasy. It makes you feel the pain and longing of being far from home, has you start thinking of pulling out that giant maleta – that fleeing the country maleta you got under your bed filled with all sorts of random shit – if only for the four minutes and two seconds of the song. When the beat is a quick staccato and the synth is foreboding and harsh, I imagine my life in this dirty, cold city I live in; when the melodic chorus kicks in, my mind shifts to the smell of the ocean air as I get off the plane in Venezuela, the dark green, shiny foliage that threatens to take over everything, the pastel rainbow of peeling paint on the homes and businesses. That an openly queer woman is the narrator makes it feel even more possible – maybe I, too, could make it work.

Tengo nueve años llenando maletas

In my diaspora return fantasy, like Rita I come home with a maleta llena a casa de mi abuela, with is airy patio and solemn sala filled with dark wood and velvet furniture donde no se sienta nadie, making way to the open air comedor with wicker seating where we’d always eat papayas, watermelons, and mangos from my abuelo’s huerta. All my primos are there like it’s semana santa or something, and mi tío Elieser who lives across the street knocks on the door with some dominoes and a bottle of liquor in hand. Pero la casa de mi abuela was long ago divided up into something much smaller to make room for tenants. My cousins have mostly left and are scattered across the world. And in March my abuela passed, joining my abuelo and the rest of our ancestors. The displacement inherent to global economic violence means that there is no longer one obvious place where my triumphant return could take place, no one matriarch holding the family together, and barely any family together at all, really.

What we have left is held together by the thin thread of the Flores WhatsApp group, where family members spread out from Argentina to Sweden write in with an assortment of birthday wishes, health updates, jokes at best corny and at worst offensive, and copy-and-pasted chains of what’s more likely than not political misinformation.

Y en un invierno en Nueva Yol te viste muerto

As I write this I am in Miami, having stayed extra days away from the brisk fall air of New York City with the excuse of meetings to set up, work to do. But really I’m here chasing home, listening for a Venezuelan accent on the street or the Lyft driver, or searching for them more intentionally at El Arepazo in El Doral. I try to surround myself with strangers who speak the way I do, fishing for the accent of my people, the familiar Caribbean sing-song of our words, the opportunity to experience Venezuelan strangers clowning each other in riotous laughter for the smallest infractions, as we do. There’s something about hearing it not from family, or friends, or people I come into contact with purposefully; to just exist in the vast expanse of the outside world among people who are, in this particular way, like me.

As a teenager I had the return fight with my parents – I hated this place, I wanted to go back, please let me go back – and for the longest time I maintained the fantasy that I would, when things back home got a little better.

Things have gotten worse. I don’t know when or if I’ll get my yola al revés. But I will always have “La hora de volvé.”

Todos vuelven a la tierra en que nacieron, al embrujo inconfundible de su sol. ¿Y quién quiere estar comiendo mierda y hielo cuando puede estar bailando algo mejor?


Verónica Bayetti Flores is a New York City based, writer, policy wonk, and cultural critic. She has led national policy and movement building work at the intersections of immigrants’ rights, health care access, police accountability, and LGBTQ liberation. Verónica has written extensively about race, immigration, gender, and music. She is a co-creator and co-host of Latinx music podcast Radio Menea, and is a co-founder and Managing Partner at the Center for Advancing Innovative Policy.

Twitter/IG: @veroconplatanos

MULA - "Nunca Paran"

Dominican trio MULA arrived last year with one of the most fascinating pop projects we had heard in awhile. The self-titled album was a free spirited exercise in genre fusion. Caribbean rhythms intertwined with heavier electronics and political lyrics blended perfectly on the dance floor. 2016 still finds creators Anabel and Cristabel (from Las Acevedo) along with Rachel Rojas making magic under MULA. Two preceding singles, “No hay manera” and “Retumba,” have highlighted their ongoing search to discover a more defined sound leading up to their new material. With third single “Nunca Paran,” they’ve hit the jackpot.

“Nunca Paran” has been billed as utopian, a celebration of perfect moments. Even with the best intentions that kind of party music will overindulge in too many ideas while forcing joy down our ears. But here those elements come together and play out as natural as watching a sunset. What begins submerged in heavy, chopped and screwed soundbites breaks through and turns weightless. There’s merengue that sneaks up and entices, there’s Marta Sánchez’s "Desesperada" vibes that want more than a simple 90’s flashback. On the chorus the low-key vocals cling to a light reggaetón, celebrating both the past and the future. A future that clearly belongs to MULA.

Video: Carolina Camacho - "Ninfa de las Aguas"

We can say an artist is ahead of the curve when maintaining the organic folklore of her/his roots by integrating it into new cultural and artistic trends. My island, Dominican Republic, has a transgressive, religious and ethnic music history base: from Africans, Aborigines, and Europeans, we have absorbed a worldwide influence that has come to shape the rhythms exercised by new generations and new technologies. When I saw the video “Ninfa de las Aguas,” helmed by Dominican director Fernando “Fundamental” Rivas for the increasingly popular Carolina Camacho, I found myself very inspired. From the first moment I was attracted by the fact it is a low-budget video –simple and homogenous. And yet, despite its resources, the result can be placed on the same list of audiovisual output of artists like Fever Ray and FKA Twigs. Not for the manufacturing of the images themselves, but for the pagan and magical issues that develop.

Undoubtedly Carolina and the crew created a concept that leads us to the sea. A sea of nymphs, goddesses and queens. All in a religious, spiritual and sexual way. The music takes it all, in a confronting way that keeps us afloat in this liquid entertaining sequence. While the clip can be somewhat monotonous (because of its ecstatic location), the pace and the drama in the performance of the artist helps to keep us interested from beginning to end. The strength of the video is that it plays with our imagination, with the concept of beauty and femininity, seeking the aesthetic in non-traditional spiritual beliefs that we don’t see often lately.

Whitest Taino Alive - ¿Dónde Jugarán Los Cueros?

¿Dónde Jugarán Los Cueros?, 
Whitest Taino Alive
Stereotipico, Dominican Republic
Rating: 88
by Carlos Reyes

Trying to locate the zeitgeist becomes a priority to the tastemaker. While it’s true the Internet brought fragmentation to the way we listen to music –and that the zeitgeist can be found scattered at a dozen places at once –there’s still a place for those of us romantic enough to theorize over the notion of the it occupying a physical space. Not to call ourselves oracles of any kind, but we were very attentive to the blossoming of the new wave of Chilean pop before anyone dared to call Chile a pop paradise. In the last year we’ve responded ecstatically to emerging talents from the Caribbean, particularly from Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. Perhaps we’re cheating when bundling both nations together (a la FIFA 2002 worldcup), but both scenes are sharing a discourse of carnal and digital burgeonings that is beautiful to witness.

Dominican newcomers Whitest Taino Alive join Füete Billēte and Buscabulla as one of the most memorable emerging acts of the last few years. Led by the equally prolific and abrasive producer Cohoba, and branding on the idea of providing the audience with something they call Choperia Fina (rocking beats while wearing leather), WTA afford to sound truly colossal on their debut album. Featuring a grand-sound design and an ambitious composition, ¿Dónde Jugarán Los Cueros? is an album that sounds nothing short from pristine (and puts the latest Calle 13 to an even bigger shame). We wouldn’t expect anything less from Cohoba, whose stellar EP Chroamatism earlier this year has profiled him as the Dominican Republic’s most distinguished music maker since Rita Indiana. For a producer with a fondness for rapture and visceral banging, he is faced with the task of negotiating his beats for the vocal dissertation of WTA (conformed by Cohoba, Blon Jovi & Dominicanye West). The results are valiantly tackled and arresting for the most part.

WTA pop references a wide number of topics that go from Sosa, Heisenberg and Lara, to celebrating Selena’s butt as a cultural monument. While the abrasiveness of the lyrics makes it seem like they’re name-dropping indiscriminately, they’re actually using pop culture as a tool/hook to welcome non-Dominicanos to their idiosyncrasy. Take for example the album’s concept. The title ¿Dónde Jugarán Los Cueros? winks at Molotov’s ¿Dónde Jugarán las Niñas?, which itself mocks on Mana’s ¿Dónde Jugarán los Niños? This chain of smartass referencing would’ve been tiresome by the third time, if it wasn’t for the album cover (showing a thong sliding hasta abajo) validating WTA’s intentions of providing a lubricant to the Dominican way upfront. Which begs the question on how WTA, or Füete Billēte for the matter, would sound if reggaeton had not become the phenomenon that it still is. We might be talking about hip hop music here, but the reggaeton influence can be felt from a far distance. It’s in this way that WTA’s debut feels personally accomplished, but is also a cooperative from the pool of influences that brought it into being.

From the first immersive brashes of intro “Chillin en Jaragua” to the syncopated horns of the gigantic “En Canoa Pal Seibo,” the first half of ¿Dónde Jugarán Los Cueros? privileges the spellbinding over the immediate. Promotional cuts “Burlao” and “Mi Bandera” are two ideal tracks to taste the WTA experience. The former surfs slowly above synth crescendos, while the latter confronts the soundscape in a massive and unapologetic way. The second half of the album lacks fury on the chorus department, but somehow manages to sound even more melodic than the first half. The outstanding “La Resaca” is particularly exciting in how it tailors and manipulates beats to simulate the feeling of feeling hangover –with a narcotized voice of reason serving as a chorus. Lyrically, the album delivers plenty of hilarious one-liners, but frequently struggles to accomplish roundness in the storytelling. The narrative is still wonderfully uncompromised in both, their outburst and restrained lines of attack. And that’s perhaps WTA’s biggest attraction, its ability to position itself as understated text and then become a major threat to the dancefloor by the very next track.

Carmen Cosmos - "Luces"

Our compilations aren’t exclusively made out of entries the artists send us (near 300 tracks for our latest one). Much of the magic and fun of curating such a thing is to hunt for virtually unknown music, from virtually unknown indie scenes. “The great revelation from the new compilation is the Dominican Republic, by far,” tweeted Miguel Franco (from the now vanished blog, Noche Pasta). I can’t remember the right combination of clicks I did to get to Carmen Cosmos (one of three Dominican acts on Papasquiaro). Nothing on her soundcloud profile was instantly gratifying, but there was a certain tropical warmthness to her music that reminded me that time I came across Rita Indiana’s “La Sofi.”

Serving an interlude/transitional role for the compilation (like the track by Gepe), “Luces” plays like a fast bullet that equalizes the canvas for whatever it’s ahead. But it's more than an interlude. The imagery of the song is as beautiful as it is brutal. Carmen exclaims over dreamy beats about a Chinese man whose guts turn into water after falling into a pit, and how about she would rather be poked with a fork than with a knife. Seriously, you need that tropical warmthness (without falling into the stereotype) to execute the construction of these images with such a pulsating voice and melodic timing. Recorded very improperly (for headphones), I sent the demo of the track to Bill Yonson, who I thought would do a fine job mastering the track and understanding Carmen Cosmos’ sensibility. In my mind, she is that “Chola” he sings about later in Papasquiaro. They now inform me they’re actually making music together, of course putting a smile on me from ear to ear.

Cohoba - Chromatism

Chromatism, Cohoba
Stereoptico, Dominican Republic
Rating: 81
by Pierre Lestruhaut

Although the Thirty-Three and a Third book series is close to having published over 100 books, each relating to a single legendary music album, you don't need more than one hand to count the number of electronic music albums that have been written about in the series. This speaks about several things, but mainly, it points to the fact that rock, pop, and hip-hop, are much easier to talk about extensively than electronic music will ever be. Aside from the fact that these genres are much more suitable for the purposes of lyricism, storytelling and outright protest, there’s also how the writing and recording sessions — generally involving clashing personalities and anecdotical confrontations — can be more easily mythologized than the solitary composition exercise of an electronic producer.

I say this because Dominican producer Cohoba's latest EP, Chromatism, even though it feels like a great statement from what's starting to seem like one of the most promising Latino producers of the last years, just falls in the category of electronic music that I love but find difficult to tell people just why they should listen to it. Taking the easy route of describing the most obvious sonic elements and references in the mix — there's the sonic palette of "Flames" that sounds inspired by both Night Slugs and Fade to Mind, there's how "Wings" is all Tri Angle eeriness but with rugged trap-like vocal samples, and then there's the Beyoncé sample in "Just 1" that gives the EP its most sugracoated and poppier incarnation — ends up feeling like a disservice to the music. Having good taste isn't a musical talent per se.

As the previous paragraphs show, writing about electronic music really ends up being more of an exercise in contextualizing the work, of finding connections between different scenes no matter how distant. Cohoba is an alumni of the Red Bull Music Academy, so it's no surprise he's been exposed to that kind of critically acclaimed and blog favorite brand of UK electronica. But what ultimately makes Cohoba both pleasurable to listen to and intriguing to think about, is that he's part of the group of artists who refuse to participate in the subgeneric dividing that makes electronic music somewhat impenetrable. Instead he focuses on the tangible spaces between scenes and subgenres, the moments of chemistry that can often be formulated between disparate sounds. In other words, he's striving to find the common ground where trap, grime, and Beyoncé can quirkily coexist.

Cohoba is also the man behind the beats of rap group Whitest Taino Alive, which, if you’ve heard our latest compilation Papasquiaro, just dropped the kind of banger that feels very ancient yet very futuristic, taking a lot from both Latin folk and modern electronic inspired hip-hop. He's the kind of producer that's making music that feels tailor-made for an era such as this one — an era of short attention spans, genre-hopping dilettantism, and free of prejudice admiration for both the mainstream and the underground. It might feel like a little too much to condense into a four-track EP, and although Chromatism doesn't plunge much into retro aesthetics like the new Whitest Taino track or Colombian producer Las Hermanas, Cohoba has showcased himself as a bold producer with an ear on the roughness of London clubs and another one on the smoothness of modern pop stars.

MP3/Video: Cohoba - "I Just" / "Know 1"

Although there hasn’t been much music coming out of the Dominican Republic that has caught our ear besides from Rita Indiana, NYC-born but Dominican-showcasing netlabel Stereoptico is starting to change that. Producer Cohoba, an alumnus of London’s Red Bull Music Academy, had already come to our attention as the man behind the beats in Whitest Taino Alive (who released some of the best Latin hip-hop tracks last year), and has actually been a part of the Dominican scene for a while. Also known for his works in other electro hip-hop and space disco projects, Cohoba has just recently released a pair of tracks from his upcoming four-track EP Chromatism. “Know 1” is built around a pounding synth progression that feels as menacing as the orchestral crescendos in Inception’s opening scene, and is later joined by pitched-down and highly processed vocals that sound as alien and terrifying as the ones on any Arca or Salem track. “I Just” on the other hand, is all exhilarating catchiness and club ecstasy, as he flips what’s said to be a Beyoncé sample over a synth drone, in what makes for a surprisingly well executed change of direction from the previous track. Such dexterity and versatility can only make us excited not only for what the rest of the EP will have to offer, but for what the label Stereoptico will continue to showcase.
 

Las Acevedo - Fiesta en la Vitrola

Fiesta en la Vitrola, Las Acevedo
Independent, Dominican Republic
Rating: 73
by Monika Fabian

Even with 2014 within sights, I keep returning to June’s Fiesta en la Vitrola EP by Las Acevedo. It’s the Dominican twin sisters and bandmates’ most mature release yet and easily one of my favorite EPs of the year. Anabel and Cristabel Acevedo seem to be doing whatever they want in Santiago, however they want—handling everything from composition to mastering—and having a blast with all of it. As aural enjoyment, their combination of sweet, two-part harmonies and sunny folk-pop on Fiesta en la Vitrola is absolutely inviting and rewarding.

“Una Sola Canción” is a gem made from cascading lyrics, gentle percussion, and layered guitar and ukelele strums. But beneath that cheery warmth, for the first time, there’s an almost literary sense of metaphor and nuance to Las Acevedo’s music. “Estas flores no son para ti,” they sing in the chorus of “Flores,” the EP opener about a man who wrongly thinks he’s the object of the singer’s affection. Assuming the song’s protagonist is female, a more feminist reading suggests she’s rejecting the male gaze and her implicit interest/role in it.

“Casa,” a gentle bachata ode to tranquil music-making at home feels wonderfully feminine in this male-dominated musical genre—even subversively so. The guitar at the heart of this ditty (and bachata itself) is female, since “guitarra” in Spanish is feminine. The gorgeous bachata is also Quisqueyan pop at its finest. “Casa” is at home in pop culture and cultura popular much in the same way as Rita Indiana’s “Da Pa Lo Do” and Juan Luis Guerra’s “Ojala Que Llueva Café.” And then the party’s over after the flirty “Tú Sí Me Quieres.” The longest song on the four-track Fiesta en la Vitrola EP clocks in at just under three minutes. I’m torn about the brevity of Las Acevedo’s latest. I want to hear more, which is a good thing, but then again, there’s genius to subtlety and simplicity. Las Acevedo might just be teaching us that.

Me Derrito Por Ti (Un Compilado De Amor)

It’s fairly obvious that we have a soft spot for Las Acevedo, but now, we have this insatiable sweet tooth for their latest baked curation, Me Derrito Por Ti ("Un Compilado De Amor”). A couple of months ago, the Dominican twins did a call for a Valentine's Day compilation, and a handful of acts showed up. Feast your ears on a lovely melodic assemblage by Latin American indie bands, including new treats from Fonograma favorites Lucila Ines, Adrian Juarez, and El Medio. We are also hand-delivered Valentine Day’s cards from familiar voices, Loocila (of Jovenes y Sexys) and Juan Manuel Torreblanca, both finding this a good opportunity to showcase solo efforts. Thanks again to Las Acevedo for being so generous with their friends and their good vibes. Much love. Stream the compilation below, and download it HERE.

MP3: Las Acevedo - "Playa"

One of the loveliest bands we’ve come to know from the Dominican Republic is the sweet folk pop twin sisters duo Las Acevedo. With their soon-to-be-released, Homemade Cookies, Las Acevedo have polished their approachable aesthetic, enriching their sing-along, joyful melodies. The proof is first single, the sunny “Playa.” A catchy summer song that will likely put a smile on your face, “Playa” is the perfect feel-good tune while packing your suitcases before an unforgettable day on the beach. Adorably blending their voices over their trademark gracious instrumentation, Las Acevedo remind us why they're so promising and why we can’t help but be in love with them. 

♫♫♫ "Playa" | Facebook

Video + MP3: Maluca x The Partysquad - "Lola"

Self-declared Dominican Princess, Maluca, is finally pulling her claws out publishing her first proper release, Massive Pow Pow EP. In the last couple of years, the Mad Decent sensation has built an enviable reputation as a performer, earning broadcast success with “El Tigeraso,” and keeping gaudy momentum with last year’s sensational China Food Mixtape. In collaboration with Amsterdam-based duo The Partysquad, the Merengue-electrified rebel has unveiled a video for the undeniably catchy single “Lola.” The track is a club banger with the vehemence of a third-world political agenda and a structure as round as Jessy Bulbo’s ever-rolling “Comal.”



Helmed by Bijoux Altamirano and stylized by Jason Farrer, the video glorifies the GeoCities and MySpace glitter era and prevents the end of the summer exploiting the 1-800-hot-call ads that invade every free-to-affordable publication out there. Not only is the video jammed with pop culture references, but it's almost as socially intricate as any scene in Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing. Massive Pow Pow is not the emblematic debut full-length we've all been waiting for, but it’s Maluca’s first real step in becoming a self-sustainable recording artist. We're also wondering if this will be the album in which she unveils a cover of Gloria Trevi’s “Hoy Me Ire De Casa” featuring L.A.-based NGUZUNGUZU and lauded by everyone (who has heard it live) as “EPIC.”

♫♫♫ "Lola" (Radio Edit) | Facebook

Video + MP3: Sosua - "La Leona"

It’s virtually ready, but today is the last day we’ll be considering tracks for our latest compilation Nuevo Ideal (out on Sunday). With nearly 400 track submissions up for consideration (from those sent by the artists), we’ve left out at least a dozen of songs that would have made it into earlier compilations easily. Among all of those good tracks we’ve left behind is Sosua’s “La Leona” (off debut album En Calor; it might not be the best in the bunch, but among the most memorable. Sosua is sort of pop culture theatrical project from the Dominican Republic. Working with predominant sexual context, Sosua is actually the project of two brothers with both, a sense of humor and a scuzzy music palate. While Sosua might not be the ideal pop idol we’ve been waiting for, “La Leona” is beyond appealing. This track took us back to those first demos by Rita Indiana (during her ‘Casifull’ era), and they sure have fun making a blasting ‘tiraea’ to our beloved Shakira on this one (they also have their own version of Britney's "Womanizer" titled "Mujeriego"). As an ironic note, one of the guys behind Sosua happens to be our selected artist for Nuevo Ideal’s artwork.

♫♫♫ "La Leona"
Download Album

Maluca - China Food Mixtape

This morning we woke up to Mad Decent’s most recent release, one we’ve been salivating for too long. We’ve been pumping Maluca’s China Food Mixtape all day long. She sounds crazy, evil and damn sexy. It’s not the official debut LP everyone is wishing for, but after a year and a half of nonstop attention solely for her hit “El Tigeraso”, we finally get to hear more. Mad Decent describes this as “a biographical trilogy (Past, Present and Future), if you will, of her musical influences and own music.” While we weren’t expecting this mixtape, we would have hoped for her to include that Gloria Trevi cover so many people talked about on her Mexico City shows. Pay close attention to “Jungle Violento”, “Loca” and of course, the title track. To be reviewed in depth soon. Download Mixtape HERE.

Alex Ferreira Covers Rita Indiana's "El Blu del Ping Pong"

“El Blu del Ping Pong” is Rita Indiana’s most popular song in the Dominican Republic, it’s special to us as it was the first (y Los Misterios) song Rita Indiana sent us to see if we would consider it for one of our compilations, as you know, we all fell in love with the project since. Fellow Dominican singer-songwriter Alex Ferreira has come with a nice and slower version of the song, adapting it to his melodic attributes (and lovely voice), holding on to the song’s tasteful raw essence, “este corazon hace ping pong pong.”

Featured: Las Acevedo – “Chaka Chaka”

Feature: Las Acevedo – “Chaka Chaka”
Unsigned, Dominican Republic

Las Acevedo is the project Anabel Acevedo and Cristabel Acevedo, two gorgeous sisters from the Dominican Republic making fun, unsuspected and unrestrained music. With only a couple of months of the duo’s formation as a band, the young duo are already starting to create huge buzz on the island, where they have built an audience for their simple and whimsical songs. It’s always exciting to find projects that seem to pop up out of nowhere, that’s part of the charm of Las Acevedo, who by region, would fit into the Dominican Alternative scene (if there is one), next to artists like Rita Indiana (who they say to be huge fans) or even singer-songwriters like Juango Davalos and Alex Ferreira. Las Acevedo are fairly distinct to their peers, that adolescent and picnic-ready characteristics should be enough for hopes of internalization.

The duo started the project composing and singing in English, something common all across Latin America with Indie-Folk-Pop bands. They recorded some very pleasant demos like “The Weather Smells Like Oranges” (from Fonogramaticos Vol.8), a song as wonderfully naïve as it is catchy. But just like Mexico’s Hey Chica! or Venezuela’s Jovenes y Sexys, they have realized sweet melodies are also achievable in the Spanish language. Their latest song and now official first single “Chaka Chaka” it’s by far, their finest moment yet; from the calming and well adjusted harmless lyrics, to the generous blend of pop and tropical layers, this sure seems like a solid starting point for the Acevedo sisters.

♫♫♫ "Chaka Chaka"
MySpace

The Fader's Pitch Perfect Mixtapes, Includes New Song by Rita Indiana

We've been linking to The Fader a bit too much, but they're on fire lately, they're currently featuring an amazing series of mixtapes powered by the increasingly global-minded site in association with Nike Sportswear. Every continent got its own mixtape and they seem like great sources to catch up with global pop. Mixtape #1 is dedicated to South America, “a land of beautiful extremes,” and in fact, the music here is wild with appearances from mostly Cumbia acts such as El Hijo de la Cumbia, King Coya, Choc Quib Town and Systema Solar.

The other mixtape concerning our circuit (#5 North America) features three ClubFonograma-approved artists including Los Rakas and Toy Selectah. But we’re particularly excited to hear a new Rita Indiana song titled “Poderes,” it’s not at the level of mind-blowing landmarks she's getting us used to, but it's still damn great. We’re glad to finally get something new in this very quiet year for this Dominican visionary, after all, 2010 is supposed to be her year. “Poderes” will be published on an EP by Rita Indiana (no ‘y los misterios’), due on Dutty Artz in the upcoming months and produced by renowned producer DJ/Rupture.

Hear the rough cut of “Poderes” in the following player and download the Pitch Perfect mixtapes here. "La montra llego con los poderes."

Video: Rita Indiana y Los Misterios - "La Hora de Volve"

Rita Indiana's visual style is as amazingly crafted as her music, by now "La Hora de Volve" is reaching the 15,000 downloads here at Club Fonograma, making it the third most popular song just after the Julieta Venegas's "Bestia" remix and Rita Indiana's "La Sofi." I think by now we can save words and let the music speak for itself, here is a great video (with great costumes, creatures and patterns) for one of the songs of the year (and the decade).

Un Niño Antiguo, Juango Dávalos

Juango Dávalos’s “De Verdad” brought us our Fonogramaticos Vol.5 theme: “Te Quiero Ver Bailar.” It was love at first sight; the song is so classy it can barely restrain its dim melancholy. “Yo quiero vivir de verdad, te quiero ver bailar, yo quiero sentir, de verdad, lo lindo que es amar.” Just like Chile’s Pedropiedra or Teleradio Donoso, this young Dominican singer-songwriter belts traditional popular music as it critiques it. Not to say Davalos doesn’t sound contemporary, his composition just retains a glossy template of those gigantic ballads our parents grew up listening to. This confection and deeply emotional approach makes songs not only aspire for the transcendental, they’re thinking ageless.

As expected, Dávalos’s sophomore album Un Niño Antiguo (fitting title) has some other solid tracks; for those who like Adanowsky or Gustavo Cerati, this is a must. They go from the sexy/cabaretesque “Cancion a las Mujeres” and “La Muchacha Ideal” to the avant-garde pieces “La Vida Sobre Un Árbol” and “Tu Versus Yo.” There’s also a gorgeous texture surrounding “Los Discos Daban Vueltas” (features Alex Ferreira on vocals), circular rococo anyone? Considering Santo Domingo ranks as our third most popular city on page hits (behind Austin and Mexico City), I think you’re going to like this: we’re giving free wings to Un Niño Antiguo, it’s here for you to download on its entirely.

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Rita Indiana y Los Misterios - "Jardinera"

Pretty much by now you can tell we’re heads over heels for Rita Indiana y Los Misterios; it’s such a huge statement but it’s the best contemporary act to come out of la Republica Dominicana and we’re here to witness it! It’s still pretty hard to put a tag on their music, some say it’s Merengue Alternativo while one of my friends from Slant Magazine says it’s “Latin America’s funky answer to Animal Collective” (What? Wait, Maybe?) I feel it’s more of vernacular music sliced up by a scope of unprecedented pop. This is dance music, roots music, pop, folk, everything pointing to a contextual direction which I’m guessing comes from Rita’s brilliant works as a novelist. I particularly find literal links to her music in her first novel titled La Estrategia de Chochueca, which believe me, it's going cult and it’s sublime. These songs are really an extension of her poetry, but most importantly, they sound great.

And yes, we got another song for you. “Jardinera” is about seeds and rights, about the joy of this practice in all kinds of connotations; the song is a chant for campesino support, and also an arousing sexual piece that reminded us of Andrea Echeverri, perhaps even more pedestrian in its sensitivity towards sexual choice and motherhood. Remember to download some other songs featured on our Fonogramaticos Vol.3 (“La Sofi”), Fonogramaticos Vol.4 (“El Blu del Ping Pong”) and you should not forget “La Hora de Volve” which again, it’s one of the greatest songs I've heard in a while.

♫♫♫ "Jardinera"
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Featured: "La Hora de Volve", Rita Indiana y Los Misterios

Get ready for this one; it’s probably my second favorite song of the year and that’s after about 100 continuous spins I’ve given the track since I got it. At this point the debut release of Rita Indiana y Los Misterios anticipates the start of an extraordinary act, instantly infectious and fantastically contextual to the Dominican Republic and its worldview. “La Hora de Volve” articulates a border-crossing spirit that impatiently waits to come back to its place of origin; sonically it’s audacious and weaves its drums with its futuristic synthesized keys. Even with such complex structure, the track is surprisingly accessible; it’s the story of almost any immigrant that starts packaging its return the second day he/she arrives to its new surroundings.

For those of us who are immigrants or are around them (particularly if they’re older), you’ve seen them keep things for when they go back, taking the most insignificant thing because they know it would make someone back home happy. It discusses the deceptive dream/myth as a form of dance, “cuando puede estar bailando algo mejor”, and it does it in an authentic shout that doesn’t fall into over-sentimental rooted music. Instead, it works its narrative with a sense of humor, letting the music debate the drama on its own. “Te llego la hora de volve, todos vuelven a la tierra en que nacieron, al embrujo inconfundible de su sol, y quien quiere estar comiendo mierda de hielo cuando puede estar bailando algo mejor.”

♫♫♫ "La Hora de Volve"