A1 Chica Chica Bau Bau (3:45) A2 Un Rayo Del Sol (2:45) A3 Cha Ka Cha (2:15) A4 Latin Can Can (3:55) A5 Yo Soy Cubano (2:37) A6 Eso Es El Amor (2:50)
B1 Harlem Nocturne (3:25) B2 Ay Mulata (3:00) B3 El Canyon Rojo (2:32) B4 El Rico Son (3:10) B5 Jungle Fever (4:20)
Album Review Any
music fan that digs the Latin music sounds of the 1970s from late
pachuco soul to Latin funk and disco and salsa, or, any serious fan of
sampladelia in hip-hop circles knows the single "Jungle Fever," by
Chakachas. It was a truly infamous hit in the United States in 1971 and
1972, mainly for the moaning, breathy sexual overtones of its female
vocalist (though there are some male grunts in the mix too) but it was
also beat crazy.
The band that created this smash, were, to all
but hardcore music connoisseurs, virtually unknown. That's ok, its
record company at the time Polydor, wanted it that way. That's because
this group from Belgium, was almost completely white, made up nearly
entirely of Northern European men (with the notable exception being
vocalist Kkeri Kenton who was of Cuban origin), most, either Dutch or
Belgian.
Chakachas have a curious history. Formed in the late
1950s by pianist Nico Gomez and percussionist Gaston Bogaert, they were
imitators of the Latin sounds that were taking the world by storm at
the time, from cha cha, to mambo to hybrid exotica to rumba. They made
records and seldom played outside Brussels or its environs. They
disbanded in '65 and Gomez began making his own albums (most are killer
and are now VERY collectible), often using former bandmates as session
players. Later in the decade, other groups from the region began making
Latin -style recordings and making some headway in sales and in the
press.
The group's producer, Roland Kluger convinced all but
Gomez to return and recorded the Jungle Fever LP-of which the title
track was buried at the dead end of side two. Polydor nonetheless
issued the cut as a single and the rest is history-except for one
interesting fact: they understood the record would die if anybody knew
this band was white. For an appearance at the Apollo, they hired a
group of African-American men to impersonate the band on stage. Since
no known photos of the real Chakachas existed they were in the clear.
The hit was a one off, a fluke, but what a boon. It has had a steady
life in the whisperings of DJs for the past three-plus decades and is
oft-sampled in both dance music and hip-hop circles.
As an
album, Jungle Fever is a revelation. While their single is the stuff of
legend, the album in some ways, places it in its rightful place at the
end of the disc. Dusty Groove with their impeccable good taste as both
a record store and as a label, reissued this baby on CD and let the
rest of us in on the secret. This is one wild, unusual, infectious set
of Latin funk with killer horns-that play against the rhythms in some
cases, vocals that seemingly come from Latin music's past and are at
odds with the more contemporary grooves being laid down by the band.
According to the liners, this is because of Will Albimoor, the group's
arranger and new composer (mostly under the nom de plume "Bill Ador").
Though some songs remain form the Gomez repertoire, they have been
radically altered in terms of contrapuntal polyrhythms, strange key
signatures, and weird fills by the horns, vocals, and piano. And there
are mad loads of drums; they are everywhere, breaking, slipping,
twisting, turning, spiking and hovering about these tunes. Checkout "Un
Rayo Del Sol," for the great drum breaks, or the smooth vocals with the
razor wire electric guitars and horns in "Cha Ka Cha," with Sergio
Mendes-like choruses blended with weird Latin soul cadences. "Yo Soy
Cubano," is as pure a rumba as one is likely to hear anywhere-until the
choruses--and one hears the odd harmonic structure written in between
the guitar and piano. Then there's the tough, barroom cha cha of "Ay
Mulata" and the seamless, nearly psychedelic mambo meets samba that is
"El Canyon Rojo," with bits and pieces of a spaghetti western
soundtrack thrown in just to stretch the listener's brain a little
futher. This disc is not some insider avant garde joke; there is no
irony here. The playing is sincere, innovative and breaks an
intentional sweat. It's no academic exercise made by studio hacks. It's
as accessible an early Latin-styled funk recording as one is likely to
find. It's only after repeated listens that the quark strangeness in
its mix sets in, but that doesn't detract from the listening --and
dancing--experience. There is also a beautiful cha cha reading of Earl
Hagen's classic standard "Harlem Nocturne" with a funky bassline and
tight guitar break. Here again, the horns' contrapuntal arrangement
adds an even deeper element of mystery to the well known noir-ish tune,
while keeping it firmly in a danceable groove-especially in the middle
eight. When one gets to the title track at the end, it's almost
superfluous; the set is so delightfully, joyous, sophisticated and hip,
"Jungle Fever" is just some naughty, nasty, icing on this exotic cake.
As
an album, Jungle Fever is singular in not only for its origins, but
also for its achievement as music. Its endurance is well well-deserved;
this is a finger-popping, hip-twitching, classic. ~Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
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