Wile E. Coyote stops and looks at the camera, a resigned expression on his face. For an agonising second his feet scramble to gain purchase on solid air, the cliff edge now meters behind him. Then he plunges to his (temporary) doom. Unlikely as it may seem, this moment of comically absurd cartoon drama is precisely what Mapambazuko, a collaboration between Peruvian musician Alejandra Cárdenas (aka Ale Hop) and Congolese guitarist Titi Bakorta, sounds like: outlandish, frantic, bounding with color, and pushing at the edges of possibility.
The album melds Cárdenas’ hallucinogenic and ultra-bright Latin rhythms with Bakorta’s joyful soukous-inspired guitar lines, as heard on his 2023 album Molende—a combination that might sound improbable on paper but makes perfect sense once heard. Bakorta’s playing may be born of improvisation, but he creates melodies that stick in the head with gluey insistence.
The album consists of six original collaborations between Cárdenas and Bakorta, plus three additional remixes. The original songs essentially follow the same pattern. Bakorta solos, his playing as delicate, free, and wild as a bombardment of small exotic birds (not for nothing does the album have a song called “La Danza del Pajarito,” or “the dance of the little bird”). Cárdenas supplies crunching drums, odd noises, psychedelic effects, and a general air of chaos. The adventurous spirit is reminiscent of Agua Dulce, her 2023 album with Laura Robles, even if the sound is very different.
The combination is potent and deliciously evocative. On the ultra jubilant “Bonne Année,” Cárdenas’ detuned electronic horns and semi-industrial thump are reminiscent of a factory assembly line gone ecstatically rogue; on the title track, Bakorta’s scrabbling, weaving sunshine guitar is like a crab scuttling off on honeymoon; “Una Cumbia en Kinshasa” has the jaunty lurch of a boat party on warm, choppy waters.
“Así Baila el Sintetizador” is particularly hallucinatory, the tempo climbing another notch as Bakorta’s guitar explores a curiously downbeat melody and Cárdenas adds berserk synth streaks. The song’s madness suggests an influenza superspreader party, as attendees’ temperatures punch through their limits and the sweat starts to drop. It’s sick—but a lot of fun. The tempo only drops on “Nitaangaza,” a woozy stroll through cough-medicine land that sits somewhere between dub reggae skank and psychedelic rock action.
These songs are immaculate. The remixes less so, with all three takes upsetting the duo’s delicate balance. Cárdenas’ dub-heavy remix of “Una Cumbia en Kinshasa” submerges the guitar lines in overly fussy production effects; the chirps, squirts, rumbles and splashes distract from the melodic madness, rather than supporting it. Remixes from Kenyan ambient artist KMRU and London-born, Chinese-Malaysian producer Flora Yin-Wong rip Bakorta’s guitar out of the heart of the songs, leaving a massive void at the heart of the duo’s work.
Musically, these remixes add little to Mapambazuko. Thematically, though, they show how the project could have turned out had different production choices prevailed. And this underlines the wonderfully sensitive job Cárdenas and Bakorta have done here, the two musicians bridging thousands of miles and centuries of history with a flick of their wrists.
There is, of course, a long history of crossover and mutual inspiration between African and Latin music, of which Mapambazuko is the latest bold step. But listeners who come for the record’s novelty will stay for the class. Seldom do musical fusions sound both so perfectly weighted and utterly irresistible, a cartoon hit of delirious joy.
