The phenomenal success of Buena Vista Social Club did much to reawaken interest in Cuban music around the globe, but more remarkable was the effect the album had on the lives of its featured artists. As he approaches his 100th birthday, Compay Segundo probably is the most internationally recognizable of any Cuban living on the island today -- other than Fidel Castro. Ever delighted by his newfound fame, the simpatico cigar-smoking Compay has toured extensively with his own band since Buena Vista's 1997 release, and his music has been prolifically re-recorded and repackaged to make his once obscure output ubiquitous.
While it's been great to see this marvelous singer/songwriter/musician get his due, at this point the release of yet another Buena Vista spinoff seems about exciting as watching Survivor reruns. Ry Cooder has moved on and along with him, his exquisite musical integrity. Las Flores de la Vida was recorded in Spain, and the organic intensity of the Cooder-produced recordings in Havana's Areito Studio has been replaced by a fuller and smoother state-of-the-art sound that adds bravura to Compay's humble heart songs, employing a Forties ballroom style rather than the spare acoustic soul of his musical origins in Santiago de Cuba.
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
You have successfully signed up for your selected newsletter(s) - please keep an eye on your mailbox, we're movin' in!
This is always infectious material, and Las Flores de la Vida is a pleasant, even lovely, compendium of Compay compositions and other Cuban classics. Jump-started by the opening dance standard "La Negra Tomasa," it includes a strained but touching rendition of "Guantanamera" with a nice solo by the master on his self-styled armónico guitar, and a lush version of Miguel Matamoros's "Longina." One offbeat inclusion is Compay's "Oui Parle Francais," written in the Cuban songwriter's interpretation of Haitian Kreyol. The cringe factor comes on the sixth track, "Amor de Loca Juventud," when some embarrassing English vocals are riffed by one of the band members, who sounds like a cumbersome mutation of Tom Waits, Louis Armstrong, and Shaggy. Never mind. Las Flores de la Vida continues with neither pain nor glory, another idyll that breaks no ground nor adds anything really significant to Compay's legacy. What's clear on this album is that he and his bandmates are having a great ride. It's easy to go along.