 Omara Portuondo At last, the Buena Vista network (having by now grown to near-WWF levels of complexity and power) has given Omara Portuondo her own fancy solo album. To me, she was the brightest gem in the original group, and that's sayin' something. I wouldn't count myself among the group of people who are no longer interested in this stuff now that it's hit the mainstream in such a huge way, though I must admit I am inclined to listen to the BV-related discs much less often nowadays than I used to be. It is such great music, though, that I doubt it will reach a saturation point like Gregorian chant did in the early-mid-90s – but don't hold me to that semi-prediction. Portuondo has made many recordings, though this one seems to suit her better than some of the smaller-budget labels could have afforded to. She's like royalty, she should have a great band and some strings, and a good studio – this CD has all the hallmarks of the BV sound, right down to the flat room acoustics. Perhaps most people will think, "Hm, well I already have two or three of those Cuban discs, I'll pass on this one." But for those who follow it enough to know these people by name, and love their stuff, this CD is a treat. Omara's voice is gloriously sexy, sad, and perfect – she is really one of the best singers that could ever be. She just cuts right to your heart, it's an effect you hear described often but it applies to so few singers. I'd rank Omara right up there with Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Edith Piaf, Tammy Wynette. This CD does her justice. It's a fine testament to her talent and her legacy. The material is mostly bolero and son, with some mambo and a bit of Gershwin thrown in ("The Man I Love," sung in Spanish). Ibrahim Ferrer shows up for a track; Ruben Gonzalez plays piano throughout, and most of the BV gang is present for at least a song or two. The family vibe, contrived though it may well be, is undeniable, and as a result these albums sound so fresh and fun. Omara's is a bit more "pro" sounding, as she was literally the biggest star of the bunch going into the original sessions. he sounds as though she could never hit a bad note. I'd almost bet that is entirely the case, too. Sad songs, songs of longing, songs of love, songs of loss, songs of lust. It's a great album. Some fire, some smoke, some joy, some pain. As with all the other BV albums, many of the songs sound like "Boulevard of Broken Dreams," but that's hardly a bad thing. No one is arguing that all these songs are incredibly distinct from each other. Admittedly I will probably not listen to this all that much in the coming months, as the BV thing undergoes its osmotic diffusion through the mainstream, cropping up in commercials and movie trailers, but assuredly years from now I will still be listening to it, and then some. Unless the BV gang ends up doing Life Savers commercials like Ladysmith Black Mombazo. Now THAT shit was a cryin' shame, literally.
Review by Leslie Bold-Italic |