Elusive Dominican musician returns with catchy, witty songs
Over a span of five years and several albums,
By FERNANDO GONZALEZ
Source: The Miami Herald, December 30, 1998.
culminating with Fogarate!(Karen, 1994), Dominican singer-songwriter Juan Luis
Guerra seemed to have lapped the field in Latin pop music, giving new life to
traditional styles from the island, adding contemporary elements and poetic lyrics.
Guerra made smart, intriguing connections between African-rooted Caribbean
styles and modern West African music -- and was commercially successful at it.
Then, he disappeared from view. Though there were many whispered explanations,
the reasons remain unclear. .
But judging by the just-released Ni Es Lo Mismo Ni Es Igual (Karen), Guerra
hasn't been idle musically and hasn't lost his touch.
The title translates roughly as ''It is neither the same thing nor it's the same,'' and
indeed Ni Es Lo Mismo is a neither a return to the successful strategies of his
breakthrough Ojala Que Llueva Cafe (I Hope It Rains Coffee) (Karen, 1989) nor
to the underrated, daring Fogarate! On the former, Guerra reworked merengue,
the catchy dance music of the Dominican Republic, with rich jazz harmonies, lush
vocal arrangements, elegant lyrics and a slick pop sheen. On the latter, he pushed
the conventions of Latin pop, especially danceable Latin pop, playing it at once
more traditionally (exploring the faster-than-fast rural style called perico ripiao)
and
more adventurous, reinterpreting merengue in his brilliant collaborations with
Congolese guitar wizard Diblo Dibala, a master of soukous, the dance music from
the Congo.
On Mi PC, which opens Ni Es Lo Mismo, Guerra nods to past successes with a
catchy merengue that plays on the imagery and language of our
computer-enhanced lives. Toward the end, like a bookend, he offers El Primo
(The Cousin), a spirited, crisp merengue with witty lyrics that play on the old
street-corner bragging device of the mythical cousin who ''knows Michael Jordan
and is an actor/ breathes underwater and is a painter.'' These songs might not
advance Guerra's vision more than an inch -- but they have ''hit'' written all over
them.
Perhaps the highlight of the new album, though, is El Niagara En Bicicleta
(Crossing the Niagara on a Bicycle), a merengue-rap with lyrics that show Guerra
at his best: as a devastating social critic with a painterly eye for detail and a
gentle
touch. He writes of having a stroke and being taken to the emergency room of a
public hospital, only to confront the tragicomic miseries of health care in the island.
''Don't tell me that the physicians left/don't tell me you don't have anesthesia,'' he
sings.
There are curiosities here, too, like Testimonio (Testimony), sung to a North
American folk-like accompaniment of steel guitar. Testimonio can be read both as
love song and religious affirmation. Here, though, Guerra sounds crafty rather than
inspired. It's an oddly generic sound for someone with such a personal vision.
Still, Ni Es Lo Mismo Ni Es Igual marks a welcome return for one of the most
creative figures in contemporary Latin music.