Song and Social Change in Latin America ed. by Lauren Shaw (review)

In this volume, Lauren Shaw argues in favor of memory, elucidating how the Latin American practice of song—resulting from the dexterous combination of words with rhythm and melody—can abet in the assessment of events that, bringing about national shame or trauma, should never be repeated. In this sense, this volume bears a heavy political burden: the import of social justice and political concern is sensibly spread through its entire length. The format favored by Shaw, which includes seven chapters on various forms of Latin American song (cortijo y su combo in Puerto Rico; tropicália in Brazil; the nueva canción in Central America; rock in Argentina, Chile, and Peru; rock in Mexico; vallenato in Colombia; and post–nueva trova in Cuba) and five interviews of a representative sample of Latin American vocalists (Panamanian salsa star Rubén Blades; Puerto Rican icon Roy Brown; Vanito Brown, Luis Barbería, and Alejandro Gutiérrez, from the Madrid-based Cuban band Habana Abierta; Chilean rapper Ana Tijoux; and Oaxacan rapper Mare, from the indigenous collective Advertencia Lirika), serves its purpose well.

The volume’s accessible prose and plain language seems ideal for a wide target audience, from music scholars seeking bibliographic material to enthusiasts of Latin American music in search of general information. Each chapter puts forward its corresponding contention with clarity of purpose and a detailed selection of evidence. Methodological approaches vary, though. This might explain why, although several chapters claim the analysis of lyrics as support for their argument, only some actually embrace the task. For a book focused on the cultural practice of song, this is rather disconcerting. In their thoroughly engaging and informative chapters on Central America’s nueva canción and Colombian vallenato, respectively, Juan Carlos Ureña and Diana Rodríguez Quevedo include plenty of lyrics. In contrast, the chapter by Lisette Balabarca—centered on pieces by Serú Girán (“Canción de Alicia en el país”), Los Prisioneros (“Muevan las industrias”), and Miki González (“Puedes ser tú”)—does not. In fact, she does not even quote lyrics, limiting her work to descriptions of language content. The chapter on tropicália, by Philip Chidester and John Baldwin, fails to break new ground on the study of the famed Brazilian movement. In contrast, the texts on Mexico (Ignacio Corona does a masterly job chronicling the evolution of rock, richly contextualized in national politics), Puerto Rico (Carmelo Esterrich’s wonderful take on the cultural consequences of rapid urbanization), and Cuba (Shaw’s heartfelt tribute to the work of Pedro Luis Ferrer) are solid contributions to the study of Latin American music.

The interviews, collected at the end of the book, are an additional high point. Interviews with Blades abound, but in this particular instance, his concern for the underdog comes across loud and clear. Brown is extraordinarily candid in his review of his career. Habana Abierta ratifies that Cuban émigrés have plenty to offer beyond trova and timba. Tijoux, a darling of the Latin American alternative scene, exhibits maturity beyond her years. And Mare repudiates Mexico’s duplicitous denial of racial and ethnic politics. If only reality were closer to the way it is suggested in their songs.