by Ladron de Tebeos
Hola, mi amigos, como esta? Okay, that’s about it for my Spanish, so, in an act of immense bravado, I will be reviewing an album where the lyrics are entirely in Spanish…hold your applause…
Today’s album is Proibido Cochilar: Sambas for Sleepless Nights by the group Cabruera. Cabruera was formed in 1998 when six nordestinos, (no idea what a nordestino is, does it mean Eskimo?) all with backgrounds in the contemporary Brazilian music scene, joined together to find a way bring their folk roots into the modern era. They sought counsel from an indigenous Tupi oracle who told them that they needed to start a band to bring a new injection of life to the communities of Campina Grande and Joao Passoa. The oracle also said that the band was to be called “Cabruera,” from the word “cabras,” meaning “a group of goats.” Then I think the oracle told them that they were “The One” and they had to fight Agent Smith in one good movie and two crappy sequels…Anywho…to get in the proper spirit of the music, I’m gonna throw back some tequila and give this a spin.
One Tequila, two tequila, three tequila
Damn, this music rocks, I’m jumping around shaking my ass all over the place. Not sure if this is considered dancing or it just looks like I’m having a seizure, but who cares, the dorky, uncoordinated white boy is rocking. This album is supposed to be a mix of Forro (again, no idea what that means, I’ll guess fire), rock, jazz, funk, rap, reggae and drums and bass, under-girded by the syncopated beat of samba…hmmm, sounds kind of complicated, all I know is that it’s kicking my ass right now…there go the neighbors, banging on the wall, let me turn it up louder…
4 Tequila, 5 Tequila, 6 Tequila
I’m not sure who this guitar player, but swear to god, he’s like a Spanish Jimmy Page or something…It’s weird, all the women on TV are starting to look like Jessica Alba…I’m not dancing anymore, I shook my ass (and skull) into a wall. But this is really, really, really good music & stuff. I could listen to this all the time, even sober. I’m even starting to understand some of the lyrics, I’m pretty sure they’re singing about chicks and stuff…Oh wait, I know what Forro means, I read it on the notes, it’s the name for the region’s country parties, at which musicians and dancers get down in an athletic form of dance that makes the lambada look tame, “At a good Forro party, the air is thick with dust raised by the feet of tireless dancers.” Screw it, where’s my tennis racquet, I’m gonna air guitar my way into history and show you all how to Forro your asses off…STOP POUNDING ON MY WALLS OR I’M GONNA RIP YOUR HEART OUT AND EAT IT!!!...Stupid neighbors, no appreciation for good music.
7 tequila, 12 tequila, 1 tequila more…
Fuckin’, it’s the fucking government man, they’re doing stuff to piss my shit off, like buttons and stuff, that makes my room spin around like this, do you know what I mean? That’s why I love you guys, you’re my fucking bitches…Oh pissballs, now the police are knocking on my door, I’m gonna go teach these guys not to piss me off, I’ll be right back…
