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| The San Francisco Chronicle Tuesday, July 4, 2000 Baca's Irrepressible Rhythm Can't Be Beat Afro-Peruvian sound fills Great American by Neva Chonin Susana Baca's Great American Music Hall show reached an apex with its final number, which is not a remarkable dynamic for a live concert. What was remarkable was the way it happened: a scorching musical duel that paired percussionist Hugo Bravo, pounding on what looked like a wooden lunch box, with drummer Juan Medrano Cotito, clattering away on the jawbone of a mule. The resulting rhythms were as transfixing as the instruments making them. The night's star, Baca, gave the stage to her four-member band, abandoning her microphone to dance barefoot across the stage to the Afro-Peruvian beat. A sold-out audience of both young and old and every shade of skin color rose to join in her dance. The crowd then joined the band, echoing each beat with a collective hand-clap until the room itself was transformed into a giant percussive instrument. Baca, a star who seems to love music more than she does the sound of her own remarkable voice, clapped right along, laughing. Such communal experiences form the heart of Baca's gorgeous repertoire. The singer is a celebrated interpreter of black Peruvian culture's long-overlooked musical tradition, known for her ability to preserve its historical style while retooling it for a modern world. After years as a cult figure, she has finally broken into the mainstream with her second album for David Byrne's Luaka Bop label, the stunning "Eco de Sombras (Echo of Shadows)," which was released this year to unanimous acclaim. On Sunday, one didn't have to be fluent in Spanish to be moved by Baca's rich contralto narratives. Feelings communicated themselves through melody, traditional lando and samba rhythms and the singer's expressive delivery. Moving from husky purrs to euphoric crescendos, Baca evoked melancholy, bliss and strength through incanta tory refrains and exquisite vocal phrasing. A song such as "Golpe E Tierra" sizzled with conviction and jazzy inflections; the plaintive "Poema" dipped and soared in moody waves. Baca's appearance matched her riveting voice. Shoeless in a simple black velvet dress decorated with a silver shawl, she radiated luminous serenity as she swayed to the music and spoke softly to the audience. Her calm exterior belied the tumultuous content of much of her music, which verbalizes the pain of a population disenfranchised and impoverished. Baca's magic lies in her talent for shouldering grief while exalting spiritual survival and emotional experience. The 110-minute show included much of the new album (highlighting the hypnotic "La Macorina" and the traditional "Panalivio/Zancudito") as well as selections from Baca's self-titled U.S. debut album (including an instrumental finale of "Se Me Van Los Pies"). Baca especially shone on the haunting ballad "Maria Lando" -- the song that introduced her to North America when Byrne included it on his "Soul of Black Peru" compilation -- by using fluctuating tones and shifting tempos to mirror lyrical drama. The members of Baca's longtime backup band kept pace with their charismatic front woman. Bravo provided percussive backdrops using instruments that ranged from congas to clay pots to hollow gourds. Cotito grounded the beat with his cajon -- essentially a large wooden box -- on which he perched, grinning and cheering on the other musicians' improvisational flourishes. Guitarist Raphael Munoz played with equal parts virtuosity and soul, and bassist David Pinto bowed and plucked his instrument to create low, thrumming pulses and ethereal, violin-like codas on the sensual "Valentin." Melancholy seldom sounds so powerful. Baca's Afro-Peruvian music chronicles a complex history with a rare joy that encompasses life's pains as well as its pleasures -- the inexpressible ecstasy, for instance, of dancing barefoot to a duet between an old mule jaw and a humble wooden box. |
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