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 dancefloor.
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LP
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ELPALMAS 012LP
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Jaguar mine the sounds of the Colombian Caribbean and global dance sub cultures on 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 dancefloors, 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. The cumbia card comes out on "Contra La Corriente" (Against The Tide) with its subtle influences of global bass and minimal post-disco. "Ten Presente" (Keep In Mind) represents another side step, a salsa orchestra stripped down to just vocals, percussion, killer horn section and raspy charango. "Guadalupe" offers 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. 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.
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