Robert Christgau: Dean of American Rock Critics

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Rubén Blades y Seis del Solar

  • Buscando America [Elektra, 1984] A-
  • Escenas [Elektra, 1985] A-
  • Agua de Luna [Elektra, 1987] B
  • Antecedente [Elektra, 1988] B+

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Consumer Guide Reviews:

Buscando America [Elektra, 1984]
The claim that only racism and lousy promotion denied Blades's Maestra Vida diptych the attention this major label debut has received is half truism and half one-upping guff. Nor do I miss the horns that helped make Siembra, his most renowned Willie Colon collaboration, an international phenomenon. The seven-man rhythm section he sings with here encourages conversational intimacy and renders irrelevant the high romanticism classic soneros drown in and Blades doesn't have the voice for. It also accents the narrative details which Blades the writer provides in such abundance. Nor must you know Spanish (or follow the crib sheet) to enjoy his rhythmic, melodic, and dramatic subtleties--they're right there in the music. Which vagues out only once--behind the pious generalities of the eight-minute title track. A-

Escenas [Elektra, 1985]
From loud syndrums to choked-up harmonies to generalized lyric, the Linda Ronstadt duet points up the risk Blades runs of falling into a modernist version of salsa's romantic overstatement. But the risk has a payback--whether he's synthing up la melodia or cataloguing international freedom fighters, his ability to skip along the shores of schlock without ruining his best pair of shoes helps distinguish him from middlebrow popularizers. It might even be what makes "The Song of the End of the World" a gleeful blowout rather than some stupid satire. A-

Agua de Luna [Elektra, 1987]
Establishing his progressive credentials and his rock credentials simultaneously, Blades commits two progressive rock errors, relying on synthesizers for texture and literature for aesthetic complexity. It's a measure of his gift and his freedom from pretension that between his supple voice and even suppler groove he induces you to listen to the damn synths--and that the words sound (and translate) like they make sense until you bear down line by line. As I bet Garcia Márquez knows, this kind of compression isn't realistic or magical, much less both. It's an impressionistic code. B

Antecedente [Elektra, 1988]
Coming off a failed literary album and a failed rock album, Blades augments a revamped, renamed Seis del Solar with salsa trombones and begets a dance album for the people of Panama. Which kind of leaves his friends from non-Latino cultures in the lurch--is this the "real" salsa record of our crossover dreams? Beats me. The (translated) lyrics are intelligently romantic (with an Indian smuggler smuggled in), and after the usual unusual effort, I can report that the tunes are solid, the grooves Latino, and the vocals proof of a major pop intelligence--he's revamped the floridity of an entire tradition in the image of his own physical limitations. Can you dance to it? Better than me, I'm sure. B+