Elpalmas Music HHV Records 18 Items

In the 80s, Dimas “Sam Dimas” Pedroza was encouraged with two atypical projects. One in partnership with the great Larry Francia, another artist released by El Palmas Music, and titled La salsa es con Dimas y Larry. And the other with an orchestra of great artists of the time that El Palmas also proudly relaunches in 2024: Sam Dimas and La Diferente’s El Tumbao…, with songs by prestigious authors such as Joseíto Fernández and José González Giralt and arrangements by the renowned trombonist Rafael Silva.

It is worth mentioning the great musicians that Dimas Pedroza summoned for this album: Rafael Araujo, Lewis Vargas and Gustavo Aranguren (trumpets), Carlos Espinoza and Rafael Silva (trombones), José Ávila (piano), Rafael Prado (bass), Pedro Viloria (timbales, güiro), Williams (congas), Nene Pacheco (bongo, drum), Leo Pacheco, Rafael Silva and Rafael Prado (choirs). There were also some special guests: Alfredo Pollo Gil and Manuel Icazas (trumpets), Oscar Mendoza (trombone), Joe Santamaría and Chucho Chuchochi (timbal) and Edwin Infante (maracas). Sam Dimas y La Diferente’s El Tumbao… is an album that Dimas - who is 80 years old today and still lives in Caracas - never presented live. One of those hidden gems in the history of salsa that El Palmas is dedicated to rescuing to continue reconstructing the memory of Venezuelan popular music, one of its main objectives. At the time of its appearance it did not receive the attention it deserved, perhaps because at first glance you can only see the surface. “I met Dimas through Roberto Monserrat on Radio Emisora Venezuela. He was from La Pastora, San José, and worked in a hospital - says Federico Betancourt in the book La salsa de Federico Betancourt y su Combo Latino, published by the Editorial Foundation El perro y la rana -. They invited him to one of the Combo Latino rehearsals and he came. Honestly, at first I was very impressed by the timbre and the way he sang, but Monserrat and the other members of Combo Latino thought it was good and they convinced me to leave him in the group. The day of recording our first LP arrived and I listened to Dimas again and then I said to myself: “Damn, this dude really sings well! You should never get carried away by your first impression.”

Few have done as much for salsa in Venezuela as band-leader, composer and pianist Ray Pérez. He burst on to the scene in the mid-60s with his group Los Dementes, creating the blueprint for guaguanco, pachanga and boogaloo in Venezuela. When the name salsa began to be used as something of a catch-all-term he was still at the forefront, recording two hugely-popular salsa albums with Los Dementes in 1967. Remarkably, that very same year, he also recorded two albums with a brand new group, Los Calvos, that showed how as well as being the genre’s most visible band-leader, he was also pushing the nascent genre to its limits. Looking back, revered journalist Alfredo Churion states that Los Calvos were “one of the most innovative experiences in Venezuelan popular music.” Estos Son Los Calvos is the first of the two albums he made with Los Calvos. On it, he made a few alterations to the line-up that may seem minor, but created a completely new sound. For the first time, he recruited a drummer (unprecedented at the time for a salsa ensemble, which always used percussionists), he switched from the trombones of Los Dementes to the much harder, direct sound of trumpets, and he recruited Carlos Yanez, best known as El Negrito Calavén, as singer. Whereas Los Dementes had been aligned with the slightly pop sound of tropical orchestras, Los Calvos took an almost-jazz approach, allowing room for the musicians and vocalists to improvise, and they also took inspiration from the sounds of surf rock swirling around Caracas. The group’s drummer El Pavo amusingly once described the group’s sound as like “wearing a dinner suit with flip-flops”. Opening track “El Kenya” is the clearest example of that surf rock influence; it’s opening lines make clear its intentions: “una linda trigueña que me invitó a bailar el Kenya” (“a beautiful trigueña – tri-ethnic girl – invited me to dance the Kenya”). They are intent on creating their own dance craze, El Kenya. If the group had ever performed live, then maybe it would have taken off, as the song had all the credentials: rollicking montuno piano from Pérez, ingenious scatting and vocal improvs from Calavén, and a middle section where the drums and trumpets battle it out hard, with an audience screaming its appreciation throughout. It’s followed by ‘Mi Salsa Llego’, which Pérez had already recorded with Los Dementes; here, it’s a tougher beast, the sparser hits of the drums and trumpets giving a harder sound evocative of the times, with more and more people moving to the cities, and wanting a grittier, urban soundtrack. The secret weapon in Los Calvos was the fact that this was a group made up of some of Venezuela’s finest musicians, many of which, Pérez included, had working class roots. Music for them was as much a part of their day-to-day lives, as it was a profession, it was what they did. The legendary Frank “El Pavo” Hernandez was on drum kit, with revered names like Alfredo Padilla, Carlos “Nene” Quintero, Pedro García, Miguel Silva, Enrique Vazquez, Rafael Araujo and Luis Lewis, also involved in the group. Their versatility allowed Los Calvos to go from the slower, haunting groove of “Negrito Calavan”, a showcase for their singer to improvise, and on to “Bailemos Kenya”, another attempt by the group to create their own version of “The Twist”! Los Calvos never played live, but that was always the intention. Pérez was in demand by the record labels of the time and his deal with RCA Victor to make two albums as Los Calvos was only ever that. But the spirit of Los Calvos remained when Pérez then formed Los Kenya, whose name came from the opening track of this album, and whose line-up featured the same inventions as Los Calvos, with a drum kit, two trumpets and the same vocalists (for their second album, Carlín Rodríguez joined as a singer, and remained for Las Kenya). For this reason, Los Calvos would never have the same successes as Pérez’s other groups, though even Pérez has revealed in interviews that the two albums he made as Los Calvos are some of the most fun he ever had recording. With the price of originals for both albums ever increasing for vinyl collectors, this is a great chance to get hold of two of the heaviest salsa albums ever issued in the 60s, and an important moment in the life of Venezuela’s salsa king, Ray Pérez.

The compilation edition recovers the memory of a very important moment for Venezuelan pop music. The appearance of Pp's (the acronym for Pedro Pérez Show, an original name that highlighted the leadership of the creator of an unexpected new wave scene in Venezuela) produced an explosion whose echo later resonated with the birth of a handful of bands that also renewed the country's musical panorama, in tune with what sounded strong in the Anglo market in those effervescent 80s (punk, post-punk, ska, even the funk that had expanded in the previous decade): Sentimiento Muerto, La Seguridad Nacional, Desorden Público, Caramelos de Cianuro, Los Amigos Invisibles (who recorded a cover of “Yo soy Así”, a Pp's song, on their cover album Super Pop Venezuela from 2005). Pp's recorded three albums in the 80s: Pp's (1981), En el aire (1982) and Tercera Guerra Mundial (1984), all with a clear pattern: putting the body in motion. It is music connected to its time that invites you to dance and listen to today, it builds a bridge to the past while opening a path to the future because Pp's is still in action. This compilation contains six songs from the first album, two from the second and three from the third, is an exclusive edition of El Palmas Music. It reaffirms the vocation of Maurice Aymard's label to preserve the heritage of Venezuelan popular culture and at the same time captures all the facets of a musical project that is a stainless symbol of the country's new wave, but also exceeds that label with music in which Flows of progressive, space rock and acid jazz filtered through. A colorful, diverse new wave, far from any type of corset. At just over 20 years old, Pedro Pérez lived in a city with a powerful cultural imprint like San Francisco. In the air was the fresh, uplifting sound of bands like Talking Heads, Devo and The B-52's. Also reggae and dancehall from a large group of Jamaican artists. Pérez also shared a date with Black Uhuru and with Ub40, a British reflection (white and more pop) of Rastafarian music. “I am like this / And what does it matter to you?”, the line that is repeated insistently in “Yo Soy Así”, one of the most emblematic songs of all that Pérez wrote, is a provocation and a declaration of principles. The new always wants to destroy the old, change the channel, change the station, head towards an alternative road.

The recovery of this Sexteto Fantasía album is another event that El Palmas Music is proud to promote.

The leader of that Venezuelan group that released this album in 1968 is Virgilio Armas, a pianist with a truly enviable record of service. To confirm it, just skim the list of artists he once worked with: Tito Puente, Paulinho da Costa, Stan Getz, Nancy Wilson, Sergio Mendes, Elis Regina, Leslie Root...

Estamos en Algo captivates and surprises with its heterogeneity: there is guaracha, pachanga, mambo, boogaloo (attention to the soulero groove and boogie-woogie of “Panchita”!), cha cha cha, bolero… As was well explained on the back cover of the first edition of this magnificent album, it is “a dynamic and versatile group made up of young musicians, wishing to contribute a new style in order to establish themselves in the competitive field of sextets.”

The spirit is salsa, but here there are nuances of Latin jazz and bossa nova that color the landscape. The Sexteto Fantasia was connected to the tradition of Latin American popular music and its time, focused especially on expanding the limits of its own work, as befits any modern artist.

The staff of this album was headed by pianist and musical director Virgilio Armas. And it was completed by Domingo Moret (flute and guitar), Rodolfo Buenaño (bass), Guillermo Taribe (drums), Hugo Liendo (tumbadoras) and Gabriel Ruiz on vocals.

“This LP with Sexteto Caracas will be, from now on, the favorite of all parties with a happy atmosphere, because through its interpretations it has that rhythm and party flavor that we all want to hear and dance to” reads the back cover of the original edition of the great album that the El Palmas Music label has the enormous pleasure of reissuing on vinyl, respecting every detail of its original art.

Ritmo y Sabor de Fiesta Con El… Sexteto Caracas, was launched in 1969 by a small Venezuelan label (Discos Diana), it appeared when salsa was already a consolidated popular phenomenon in the country. The era of the rage of the tasty crossover of genres with guaguancó and boogalú and even soul, of the “superdiscotecas with cinematic sound and psycho-delirious dance floor”, as was announced in the promotion of a show at El Palacio del Baile when Caracas was experiencing an impressive cultural explosion.

In this context, the only album by Sexteto Caracas was released, a group of young but seasoned musicians through dozens and dozens of shows, with a luxury musical director (Abiezer M. D'Aubeterre, better known as “Ajoporro”, also in charge of the piano and guitar) and the voice of Alfredo Antonio, who had previously ventured into pop music as the singer of the group Chicles.

Sexteto Caracas was born in the mid-60s as the initiative of the timbalero Jesús “Chui” Osuna, who conditioned his own house for the group's rehearsals, and it established itself as it added concerts in that Caracas of great musical revelry until it reached its unique album, a collector's item that El Palmas Music proudly recovers, faithful to its objective of cultural archeology and revaluation of artists who deserve a privileged place in history. ________________________________________

Enigmatic group known for their song Cumbia Del Desierto on a 7-inch vinyl they share with El Dragón Criollo at El Palmas Music. This song was played with fury by music lovers and collectors around the world.

Well, beautiful people La Jungla is back with the melody in this mini album titled De Borondo!!! A cut of four songs where criticism, humor, experiences and good vibes are present throughout all the songs.

El Palmas Music are reissuing a rare 1970s Venezuela salsa record that spotlights the work of enigmatic Caracas guitar maestro, Andrés Moros Given his singular vision on the 1976 salsa masterpiece, Andres y Sus Estrellas, the absence of information on Venezuelan musician Andres Moros, also known as “Morito”, feels almost criminal. What we do know is that Morito first began his musical journey as a live performer in the bars and nightclubs of Caracas in the 1960s-70s, at the full height of the Venezuelan salsa boom, and was a core figure on the scene. Alongside a small band, Morito would frequently perform in the bustling live music circuits of Caracas and La Guiara, where he first met the notable singer Nano Grant. Andres y Sus Estrellas was the result of a long-held dream of Morito’s to partner with Grant to record an album. This album, Morito’s debut project, is now getting reissued by El Palmas Music. With big band compositions spiced with the flavour of Caribbean rhythm, the album is a seminal example of Venezuelan music at the height of its salsa movement. Grant’s effortlessly smooth flowing vocals chronicle tales of love, passion and party, masterfully guided under Morito’s cohesive musical direction. Here, the arrangement flows with succinct percussion, dramatic pauses, and satisfying brass bursts all timed to perfection and employed with astonishing versatility from track to track. “Canuto” is a soft, sensual calling to end the tears, “no quiero que llores más”, soulfully implores Grant. “No Quiero Bailar Pegao” is an upbeat merengue-infused track that humorously chronicles tales of sweaty, intimate dancefloors. On the bolero-ballad “Condición”, a female vocalist known today only as Yara passionately navigates heartbreak and reconciliation, the anguish of her vocal underscored by sweeping brass. Meanwhile, “La Mazucamba” is a skittish ode to the act of dancing, a gleeful celebration to what the record as a whole evokes: dancing with feeling; come joy or sorrow; the rhythm moves us. Andres y Sus Estrellas is a cult classic that encapsulates the very best of Venezuelan’s golden salsa-era; a must-have for any collector looking to add an overlooked gem of the genre to their music library.

As the 1950s drew to a close a group of students at Caracas’ Universidad Central de Venezuela caught the tropical music bug and decided to form an orchestra. With the majority of the students coming from the engineering faculty, they were duly christened Conjunto Ingeniería (The Engineering Group) and from the offset, they were ahead of the game. Tropical music, or música bailable (danceable music), was slowly making its way to Venezuela, but Conjunto Ingeniería had a secret weapon as one of their fellow students was studying in New York and every July he’d return with the latest Latin big band sounds: Tito Puente, Machito, they heard it first. And they wasted no time in making a name for themselves: nine young male musicians playing the hippest sounds around, they were the obvious band to play high-society quinceañeras (15th birthday celebrations to mark a “girl’s journey into womanhood”), which their original bass player, Juan Marquez, says they did at least 80 times in their heyday, as well as playing countless times at the university, on TV, at weddings, and at carnival, where on one occasion they accompanied Celia Cruz. “We played on all the TV channels”, says Marquez, “we were the first group to play at the launch party for ‘salsa’, a term that was established by the [Venezuelan] announcer Phidias Danilo Escalona… in Barquisimeto we were considered the best orchestra”, he remembers. On record their eclecticism and musical chops belied their age. In 1961 they released their self-titled debut album, which tackled mambo, guaracha, cha-cha-cha and charanga, veering from the Les Baxter-esque exotica of “Mambo Silbando” with its kitsch whistling, through the horn-and-percussion heavy stomp of “La Bola” (complete with bolero bridge) and on to “Amorcito”, their cover of The Diamond’s “Little Darlin’”, which was arguably the first rock ‘n’ roll song recorded in Venezuela. They followed it up with Aqui Esta El Conjunto Ingenieria, their second album in 1962, in which they showed once more that rock could easily sit next to Latin on tracks like “Mambo Rock”. Their last album, Boogaloo Con Ingenieria, arrived in 1967, and made clear the influence of New York in their sound, with the group adopting the boogaloo of Pete Rodriguez, Tito Puente and Ricardo Ray. Tracks like “Dame Boogaloo” and “La Boa” were the epitome of this, but they also took that sound into new places, as on the staccato groove of “Intermission Riff” which left plenty of space for the musicians to flex their muscles, or on the ominous “Aefo” with its unsettling vocals and dramatic Henry Mancini-esque melody. Conjunto Ingeniería came to an end at the beginning of the 70s, by which time many of their original members had left after graduating, but there can be no doubt they had made their mark. Though their recording output was nowhere near as prolific as their contemporaries Billo’s Caracas Boys or Los Melódicos, if you were turning on the TV, going to carnival or, especially, attending a quinceañera, in Caracas in the 1960s, then you would no doubt of come across Conjunto Ingeniería and their rock ‘n’roll-embellished New York-meets-Venezuela big band sound. On this compilation, simply titled Conjunto Ingeniería, El Palmas Music have cherrypicked a glorious selection of tracks from across the group’s career, capturing all the creativity and youthful excitement that made them one of the first titans of Venezuela’s tropical music history.

El Palmas Music to reissue incredibly hard-to-find album by Venezuelan salsa bandleader and polymath.

Few artists worked as hard at their craft as Ramón Urbina. At the age of 15, and in thrall to the Latin jazz and tropical music he was hearing on the radio, he learnt to play tres guitar. Then he learnt bass. Then percussion, tumbadora, timpani drums, trumpet, trombone, piano, whatever instrument he could get his hands on. A true enthusiast and student of all the tropical music that was percolating through Venezuela and the rest of Latin America at the time, he wanted to understand the art of composition and arranging, and around 1972 he decided to put it to the test, forming his first group, Ramón y su Banda Latina. Taking inspiration from salsa ensembles like Sexteto Juventud, as well as Pastor López, a Venezuelan singer and bandleader who was having huge successes in Colombia for his mix of cumbias, guarachas and boleros, Ramón’s group toured throughout Venezuela during the 1970s. Then one day, he went to see La Dimensión Latina in his home town of Charallave, and he saw the future. The age of salsa with its multi-trombone sound was here, and he wanted to take part, recruiting new members to form Moncho y su Banda. After road testing their material, the new group was ready to record an album in 1981, but finding a record label was not easy. Ramón loved music but he was a homebody too and spent most of his time in Charallave, at a distance from the thriving music scene in Caracas. This, combined with the fact that he’d yet to record an album and create any kind of international reputation meant that he initially struggled to find a label. “God help me, even if I have to pay myself, I’m going to record my album”, he said at the time. Despite no guarantee of any album being released, Moncho y su Banda stepped into a recording studio and didn’t rest until they’d got what they wanted. Those who were there remember a feeling of being at a party, hanging out with family and friends, and dancing all night. After realising they’d forgotten to eat at a session, one of the group’s singers, Eduardo Fernandez, ordered a bottle of sambuca, and just like that they kept on recording, without pause, albeit with extra spirit. Once record label executives finally heard the album, titled Qué Bellas Son (How Beautiful They Are), they couldn’t resist its energy and a release date was set. It’s an album that captures the sound of a working band at ease, playing the kind of set that they would be knocking out at clubs around Venezuela at the time, full of life and passion. Whereas a formulaic salsa sound was forming in the early 80s, Moncho y su Banda bucked the trend, playing a mix of raw, unbridled salsa dura, as well as cumbias, merengues, boleros and chucu-chucus, all with a heady dose of Caribbean spirit that sets the group apart from the more urbane salsa ensembles of the day. Qué Bellas Son is the only album that Ramón Urbina ever recorded, though he has kept performing to this day, where you can still find him in Charallave. A true lover of music, we should be thankful that we have at least this one album of his to remind us of a band at the height of their powers.

Grupo Casabe can lay claim to being Ray Pérez’s last great group. Fresh from the successes of Los Dementes and Los Kenya, Pérez was at the forefront of salsa in the mid-70s, and still experimenting with música bailable and all the danceable hornblazing styles that were beginning to be known collectively as salsa. The finest tracks of this short-lived combo, active from 1974 until 1975, are now being celebrated by El Palmas Music on a new compilation simply titled Ray Pérez y El Grupo Casabe. Pérez was bandleader for an astonishing number of groups, which was partly due to his in-demand status, with each move to a new label meaning he needed a new band name. Such was the case with Ray Pérez y El Grupo Casabe, formed when CBS came calling. Their line-up built on his previous groups, with both a drum kit and percussion for additional power, with Pérez himself belting out those trusty piano montuños, however there was one significant change, with Pérez using saxophones for the first time, alongside his usual brass section of trumpets and trombones. With him for the ride were vocalists including Rodrigo Perdomo (brother of “El Negrito Calavén”, from Pérez’s earlier group, Los Calvos) and Rafael Morillo. The compilation begins with “María Antonia”, the first 7” Grupo Casabe released in 1974. Instantly, it’s clear why Pérez is so loved in salsa circles, for this is salsa of the highest order, the focus switching between piano, vocals and brass effortlessly, while the drums restlessly inject the song with energy; then there’s the breakdown, Rodrigo Perdomo stretching his vocals to a rasp and throwing the brass into an extended passage; suddenly, they stop and Ray, El Loco as he was affectionately known, lets loose with a piano solo that’s elegant in its efficiency, before the band return for one more trip round the salsateca. 1974 and 1975 were important years in the trajectory of salsa. It was this period when salsa became a collective name for urban orchestras playing Latin music styles like son, guaganco, mambo, cha-cha-cha and rumba. Though undoubtedly salsa – Ray was a “rey de salseros” after all – there is so much nuance in the music. “Campesino Nuestro” is a slow-building rural son, taking the Cuban countryside to the dancefloor; “Santa” and “Oye Nena” are twisting guaguancos, the former possessing one of Perdomo’s finest vocal performances, and the latter the finest showcase for the band, with percussion, brass and piano on fire. “La Reina”, a danzón, show that the band can do the slow numbers too, and then there’s “Sábado En La Tarde”, Perez’s take on surf with a melody seemingly taken from the finest Steve McQueen crime caper. There are few that come close to Ray Pérez for musical inventiveness and a sheer ability to keep dance floors moving. If Ray had been born and raised in New York then no doubt he’d be regarded as one of salsa’s pioneers. He’s had to work harder for his reputation, but there can be no doubt, he deserves to be one of the greats, and his work with Grupo Casabe is even more proof.

Those two über-hip expatriate Colombian ‘salsapunks’ are back. Contento’s first album, Lo Bueno Está Aquí, was an artistic and critical success: chosen, for example, by the UK’s discerning national newspaper, The Guardian, as their global album of the month in November last year. Their follow-up, En Lancha Pal Futuro, builds seamlessly on its predecessor. Yet it could not have been recorded in more different, and difficult, circumstances.

The duo’s debut was laid down between 2016 and 2019, a period when the two European-based Colombians, who met at an Eddie Palmieri concert in Berlin, were able to take some serious time off from their diverse individual projects to explore a new vision for salsa. Paulo, a member of Acid Coco, Jaguar and El Dragón Criollo; and Sano, a DJ and producer known for his minimalist Latin house releases for the Cómeme label, crystallized on their debut what Paulo describes as “a new salsa sound that may also make [listeners] want to discover some of the older sounds, too.” That sound is a kind of ‘retro-smart’ combination of Nuyorican boogaloo from the ‘60s and cumbia from the golden age of Discos Fuentes. Contento’s contemporary electronic twist suggests, if you like, a kind of post-modern variation on Dave ‘Baby’ Cortez’s “Happy Hook With an Organ”.

The album that you now enjoy has been compiled by El Palmas & El Drágon Criollo an begins with the theme that every afternoon, starting at 6 O´clock, all the youth of Caracas waited anxiously: “Introduction Theme” by Los Supersónicos was the wake-up call to introduce the charge of surfing that that later it would explode in El Club Musical.

And from the same group, another of their greatest hits is included, such as “Rosas Rojas para una Dama Triste”.

The Dangers were in charge of entertaining many youth parties in Venezuelan society. Their great success was “Congratulations”, an obscure Ricky Nelson song, of which they made an excellent cover. And to demonstrate the great influence of the British group The Shadows - present in all the youth bands of the time - here they shine with their recreation of the song “González” The Blonders were by far the possessors of the purest and most crystalline sound among the surf groups in Venezuela. A bold and highly imaginative arrangement of the classic “Lamento Borincano” is enough to justify its inclusion in this compilation.

And although The Impala came to have the most aggressive and rock-and-roll sound, here they show another facet of their music with the songs “Triste” and “Desafinado”.

Jaguar mine the sounds of the Colombian Caribbean and global dance sub cultureson a debut album that veers between psychedelic salsa, taut cumbia-disco and zouk party jams.



Rave culture never hit Colombia in the 90s – an internal civil war and a music industry fixated on blandness and payola made sure of that – but if it had then Jaguar would have been one of its leading lights. On their debut album this Colombian duo excavate the sound of their country’s dance floors, uniting the classy, brassy sounds of cumbia, porro and salsa with the earthier DIY vibrations coming from Afro-Colombian street parties on the coast, melodies and guitar lines learnt from imported African vinyl filtered through drum machines and hand-painted picó sound systems with the bass so high it threatens to knock you over.

The twosome mark out their stall on album opener “Bailalo Tu También” (“You Dance It, Too”), urging all to come and dance on a tune that references champeta (the #1 sound of Afro-Colombian block parties), zouk and calypso, as well as doffing a cap to disco and Brit funk, uniting the underground dance cultures of Colombia, the Caribbean, New York and London in one fell swoop. The cumbia card comes out on “Contra La Corriente” (“Against The Tide”), which with its subtle influences of global bass and minimal post-disco gives this classic rhythm even more thrust. “Ten Presente” (“Keep In Mind”) represents another side step, a salsa orchestra stripped down to just vocals, percussion, killer horn section and raspy charango, with the groove never in doubt.

Yet, if 90s rave culture represented a response to the darkness of the 80s, then something similar is at play here, the image of the Caribbean as a warm, happy and danceable place coming in contrast with the poverty that is the reality for many living there, and this dark underbelly is not ignored by Jaguar. “Is it possible that the people united could become invincible?” they ask on “Guadalupe”, offering a message of hope that one day the inequality, poverty and neglect that is everyday life for many people in Colombia will be diminished by getting behind the same cause. Driven by an 80s-inspired zouk beat, they dream of there one day being a united people with the strength to fight back against the authorities. “¿Será posible, será posible?” they sing, “Could it be possible, could it be possible?” This dichotomy of emotions crops up again on “Siguele El Paso” (“Keep Up”), a pure Caribbean groove that is impossibly infectious with lyrics that speak of keeping those hips moving but can’t help but mention reality, the protagonist of the song dodging bullets and nefarious forces while still keeping their rhythm on the dance floor. It’s a perfect encapsulation of Jaguar’s modus operandi, this is music to make you dance, but it remains grounded, in Colombian and Caribbean musical idioms as well as the hard times that many Colombians are living through. It’s a rhythmic elixir, but with bite; rum straight from the bottle.

Jaguar are two Colombians based in Europe, Paulo and Raúl. Since the 90s their paths crossed, their names mentioned by mutual friends, but it would not be until 2017 that they finally got to know each other. Quickly they established a musical rapport, forming a band with some friends that fell apart just as quickly, but they knew that wasn’t the end, and they continued working on songs, finding their musical language; a path that led them to Madremonte and a sound that imbibes cumbia, salsa, bolero, rock, zouk and champeta, music from across Colombia, from the Caribbean, its Pacific Coast and high into the Andes, all the while transposing these sounds to the dance floor.

Venezuelan aggressive guaguanco originally released in 1967 and reissued for the very first time. Frank y sus Inquietos is a little-commented Venezuelan treasure in our time, an amazing, almost unknown jewel of Venezuelan hard salsa, treasured with zeal by music lovers of all times. This group is evidence of the musical communion of the young Caracas of the late sixties with the sounds of the Caribbean in their nascent marriage with urban aggressiveness. As a result of these meetings of “friends who played instruments” such as congas, bongos, piano, timbales and their fiery discharges on the top floor of Block 3 of La Silsa, a building located in this humble and highly populated Caracas popular area, the repertoire of songs by the homonym Frank y sus Inquietos (1969), with an exquisite imagination and brimming with vitality, authentic vocals and choirs, overwhelming percussion, strong bass and fierce piano conducted by Frank González.

The best kept secret of the new album by El Dragón Criollo, the jewel in the crown, a song that, like the best of Latin music, comes with dynamite, gasoline and candela for the dance floor as well as reflective and sensitive with the reality of our countries, especially Colombia, where the oppressed are getting worse and worse and those from above always fall on their feet. But let's not forget that dance is catharsis and a good song is the key that opens our senses. "Sentencia " plays this wonderful role, not in vain has it been the last song on the album to be finished with this objective clearly in mind and verified before the release and, gentlemen, the dance floor does not lie. People get lost in this pure fantasy. "Sentencia " goes beyond the ordinary, it is the product of the countless styles that Paulo Olarte has perfected throughout his career as a producer, at a sound and musical level, it has innumerable elements that have influenced his entire personal life and that, without a doubt, comes to shake us with its extreme flavor. "La Número Uno" Dedicated to love and the dancefloor, hot as the earth, a song with the intention of transmitting the most authentic vibes of affection with movement and party. “La Número Uno” arises from El Dragón Criollo’s love for the four women in his heart. At the same time, it does not skimp on fanning the heat of the track. An arsenal of classic elements of champeta and Panamanian reggae from the 90s. The presence of the classic Casio Sk-5 and samples that you will recognize instantly if you are a connoisseur of this real sound, the kind that ignites the rumba in the neighborhood. It is a dedicated theme to fill the energy track while dedicating it to your number one.

The rescue of the only album by the La Solvencia Orquesta symbolizes very well the full meaning of the mission of the El Palmas label, stubborn in keeping the history of salsa alive in Venezuela, recovering the intrepid and genuine music with which the pillars of the salsa genre were built.

At the time this album appeared, originally released by the Corpodisco label in 1980, “guaguancó, guaracha, son and merengue were played, but Latin rhythms were not yet definitively labeled as salsa” says Felipe Díaz, singer of La Solvencia.

There were many orchestras of this type in Venezuela. Every season they used to visit dozens and dozens of towns to celebrate the festivities of different patron saints, popular celebrations in which people gave themselves up to dancing in an atmosphere of collective trance.

The combination of the natural and contagious groove of La Solvencia's songs with lyrics that paint with strokes as simple as they are accurate the daily life of ordinary people, their joys and disappointments, their urgencies and troubles, transformed the group into one of the favorites of the Venezuelan salsa public.

El Palmas Music rescues a hidden gem of Venezuelan salsa

With the vinyl reissue of En La Conquista del Mundo Latino (1979), by the Salsa Suprema Orchestra, it pays a fair tribute to Larry Francia.

“Larry Francia's work deserves nothing less than transcendence,” says Miguel Álvarez, the Venezuelan musical collector and archaeologist who one day came across with this Salsa legend from his country without planning it and knew it was fair and necessary to spread this magnificent work.

Born in Barlovento, an Afro area of Venezuela where the drum rules, Larry Francia grew up in San Agustín del Sur, a Caracas neighborhood that is salsa territory par excellence. When he was barely 12 years old, Víctor Piñero, one of the most popular orchestra singers in Venezuela in the 60s, summoned him to record choirs. An early initiation that marked Larry forever and at the same time revealed his indisputable talent.

“His driving force is singing. If you're talking to him, he often stops talking to sing" says Álvarez. “He was a man who never stopped being a musician, even though his living conditions were never the best. And the legacy of Salsa Suprema is key to Venezuelan popular music.”

When that orchestra stopped working (there were no producers who supported their tours, their records were pirated in Spain in the 80s), Larry suffered an emotional breakdown and even gave up devoting himself to music for a few years. He was someone who undoubtedly lived for and through music.

Larry Francia left this world in 2023, but we are left with a fabulous album like En La Conquista del Mundo Latino, recovered from the chest of memories by Álvarez and the Suicide Diggerz collective, specialists in rescuing hidden gems. “It’s a collector's item of the most exquisite and least known Venezuelan salsa” he defines.

The El Palmas Music label - created by musician, DJ, designer and cultural agitator Maurice Aymard, whose base of operations is in Barcelona - has been committed since 2020 to making known the best and least visible of the rich heritage of the popular music from Venezuela. Now he is pleased to present the reissue of this fundamental album as a posthumous tribute to an artist with capital letters: the great Larry Francia.

El Palmas Music to release a new compilation of songs by the famous Venezuelan singer and percussionist Tabaco.

Tabaco Quintana is, without a doubt, one of the great masters of Venezuelan salsa. Born in Caracas in 1943, he was tall and very skinny, which earned him the nickname ‘Tabaco’. A shoeshine boy and street hawker, at the age of 18 he fell in love with the Caracas nightlife and spent his days listening to the rehearsals of a musical group that he ended up joining, thanks to the intervention of his friend Elio Pacheco. That group was called Sexteto Juventud.

Tabaco passed through almost every musical position within the band until he became a singer. It was the resemblance of his voice to Ismael Rivera and his skills as an interpreter that earned him a permanent position in the band.

After leaving the group in 1973, he created his own sextet, Tabaco y Su Sexteto, and later formed Tabaco y sus Metales, two groups that achieved international recognition, and became staples of the Venezuelan music scene ‘til the mid-80s. Throughout, and despite his fame, Tabaco was always clear that music had a social role to play, and would often sing in Venezuelan prisons. Sadly, he died young, on May 30, 1995, due to a lung condition. The public overflowed the streets to accompany him to his last dance.

This compilation of Tabaco’s songs, simply titled Tabaco and compiled by El Dragón Criollo and El Palmas, is an attempt to shine a light on this musical icon, and to show his versatility, vocal ability and unparalleled knowledge of musical rhythms.

Primarily known for his voice - which isn’t surprising considering his vocal nuances and the different registers he is able to reach - it can be said that he was also no slouch when it came to mixing up the rhythms. On this compilation there is a strong influence of African music (“San Juan Guarincongo”, “Imolle”) and jazz - just listen to the unforgettable beginning of “Arrollando”.

Percussion, piano and wind instruments are high in the mix, but it’s the masterful voice of Tabaco that adapts effortlessly to the requirements of the melody and the lyrics, riding each groove masterfully. The lyrics also show the great social sensitivity of the Venezuelan maestro: “Una Sola Bandera” and “Cuando Llora el Indio” are two great examples of salsa’s power in denouncing social injustice, and Tabaco’s commitment to that ethos.

Tabaco is unmissable, a heady journey into the essence of salsa and the rhythms of the Caribbean.