Madera Limpia La Corona out here records, 2008
Boca Floja
Outside the walls of the US military base at Guantanamo Bay, there’s a small town, and in that town a talented group of young musicians and rappers are making the music of a new Cuba. Their musical chops span classic Cuban styles—brassy salsa to folksy tres-picking, as well as reggae, cumbia, and reggaeton. They sing and harmonize beautifully, but their primary vocal mode is rapping, and rapping about the truth of their town’s poverty and hopelessness, the truths of Cuba as a young generation sees them. Madera Limpia (pure wood) risks persecution, but produce a sound perfectly calibrated to inspire international interest. They sing about the struggle of a poor, uneducated man to get respect (“Tu Papa”), the little lies people tell themselves to get by, and even the dangers of glib, friendly government spies who prey on intellectuals and then report them to the police (“Boca Floja”).
The musical style is fresh and original, and for all the rapping, this CD is rife with references to the past. Folksy, vintage Cuban songs open two tracks (“En La Esquina” and “Perro Que Ladro”), and echoes of son and salsa pervade the mix. Angel Rubio Espinosa’s tres playing (mostly clean, but occasionally distorted and rocked out) is a treat to hear throughout.
Outside the walls of the US military base at Guantanamo Bay, there’s a small town, and in that town a talented group of young musicians and rappers are making the music of a new Cuba. Their musical chops span classic Cuban styles—brassy salsa to folksy tres-picking, as well as reggae, cumbia, and reggaeton. They sing and harmonize beautifully, but their primary vocal mode is rapping, and rapping about the truth of their town’s poverty and hopelessness, the truths of Cuba as a young generation sees them. Madera Limpia (pure wood) risks persecution, but produce a sound perfectly calibrated to inspire international interest. They sing about the struggle of a poor, uneducated man to get respect (“Tu Papa”), the little lies people tell themselves to get by, and even the dangers of glib, friendly government spies who prey on intellectuals and then report them to the police (“Boca Floja”). 