There is no question that
Rubén Blades' musical career got at least sidetracked after the mid-'80s, as the great salsa composer first completed his studies at Harvard Law School, then went into acting, and later into politics, eventually becoming Minister of Tourism of Panama between 2004-2009. Happily,
Cantares del Subdesarrollo, his first album in six years, signals a magnificent return to basics. After decades of dabbling with crossover experiments or world music (some of these efforts eminently worthy of attention),
Blades is back to his true strengths on an album that he conceived, musically, as a tribute to the late great Puerto Rican soneros
Ismael Rivera and
Tite Curet Alonso, and
Ray Barretto, and lyrically as a continuation to the characters of his ambitious 1980 opera Maestra Vida. Fans of
Blades' seminal work with
Willie Colón will immediately notice the absence of horns on
Cantares del Subdesarrollo, but upon realizing that
Blades actually recorded all the instruments and voices by himself in the garage of his California home (with a little help from
Walter Flores on flute and percussion and
Marc Quiñones,
Oscar Cruz, and Rey Cruz on congas), they will only gasp in admiration at how vibrant and classy this album sounds, and excuse a certain lack of variety in the arrangements as this is compensated by
Blades' tasteful embellishments on the tres. More than anything else, what comes to the forefront on
Cantares del Subdesarrollo is the return of
Blades the master storyteller: his razor-sharp character studies and slice-of-life ghetto postcards, unsurpassed in the Spanish language, are back with a vengeance in "Las Calles," "El Tartamudo," and "El Reto." Equally at ease writing about hapless street bums or the forces of history,
Blades can be alternatively hilarious, moving, incisive, enraged, or compassionate, in what is arguably his strongest set of songs since 1987's
Agua de Luna. If one were to find any fault with
Cantares del Subdesarrollo, it's that life in El Barrio for
Blades seems to go about the same way it did in 1978, as if the new century, Internet, 9-11, and what have you brought no change at all to the daily lives, language, or mentality of the residents of his songs. The positive flip side of the coin is that
Blades -- who initially distributed the album from his website only -- also refuses entrance to the new sounds, so that
Cantares del Subdesarrollo is mercifully free from any reggaeton, cumbia, or hip-hop influences, a de facto presence in virtually the entire Latin music market today (and who could be more justified than
Blades in cashing in a few favors, or guest appearances, since every serious reggaeton artist has been trying to become
Blades' heir as the voice of the ghetto?). This is a fine salsa/son record, and happy to be just that. Naturally, as it also happens to be the work of one of the genre's greatest composers in absolute peak form, it turns out to be a lot more than just fine. So great to have you back,
Mr. Blades. ~ Mariano Prunes