Somebody come get me, before I kill this man. Somebody come get me, get this knife out of my hand.
Syren Hall – Somebody Come Get Me
roots love, roots pain. Is this girl a major label test-tube baby? what looks like a realish myspace only lists 69 friends.
Elsewhere in the Caribbean, bachata that runs easy laps then breaks into gabba-sprints, cooked up from Dem Bow bullion:
Viejo – Apretaito
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Maga Bo live on the radio tonite, playing a NYC show tomorrow
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In other news, huge online reggae store Audiomaxxx was shutdown.
The seizure Wednesday of more than 200,000 CDs and DVDs from the production shop of Winnipeg-based Audiomaxxx.com is likely Canada’s largest in the a decade, says Graham Henderson, president of the Canadian Recording Industry Association. “Independent producers and smaller record labels, including some from the Caribbean, played a big part in pushing the industry and the police to investigate, Henderson said. “Their whole market was being chopped out from under them in the Caribbean, by stuff made in Canada.”
This criminal takedown is not surprising to anyone who knew of Audiomaxxx: there was a bounty on the Canadian’s head for his particularly ruthless theft/bootlegging. For scandal, check the ‘Boycott Audiomaxxx‘ Myspace.
(Winnipeg. It gave us Venetian Snares and King Raj of Audiomaxxx. )
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OK, back 2 our regular deprogramming.
Bachata Roja: Acoustic Bachatas from the Cabaret Era is a solid comp of the Dominican guitar music that you now hear in its slicked-up contemporary form all over NYC’s Latino barrios. There aren’t any female vocalists on it, and this assortment of love (& lust) songs would unequivocally benefit from a female perspective (ok, maybe it’s not so solid) but if you’re feeling this tune, then the album is worth looking for:
Felix Quintana – Ladrona
I for one am digging (for) Latin Caribbean guitar music. Bachata Roja showcases the old school’s dude romantics and spry unplugged elegance.
Contemporary bachata swirls around the streets & pulses up through the floorboards of where I live, and one of the best moments is when the sound coming from a neighboring window or passing car switches from bachata (which i don’t know at all) to reggae classics (which I know and consider ‘my own’). These wonderful Antillean geographies displaced and collapsed — condensed — into Brooklyn, where like and unlike across at least two languages join hands to bump.