Changüí: The Sound of Guantánamo

Kick back, light a Cohiba. Open the rum. This new release from Petaluma Records is a proper deep dive into the changüí music of Cuba’s easterly Guantanamo province. Fifty tracks on three CDs come in at three-and-a-half hours long, gifting what is billed as the first ever comprehensive collection of changüí – which according to the accompanying trailer is ‘rural, riff-based, foot-stomping, call-and-response, largely improvised music.’ Or if you like, the good-time blend of African rhythms and Spanish guitar melodies widely considered the precursor to Cuban son, itself the forerunner of Cuban salsa.

The project is the fruit of a two-year immersion by writer and Cubaphile Gianluca Tramontana, who travelled from mountain to city with state-ofthe-art digital equipment recording changüíiseros on porches, in yards, under ceiba trees. Changüí means ‘party,’ and this is the intention here, as maracas, guitars, bongos, the plucked box marimbula, occasional empty beer bottles and a riff-carrying tres guitar deliver tunes that originated on chocolate and coffee plantations, their rhythms mirroring those at work in the fields. Impromptu configurations called things like Grupo Estrella Campesinas and El Guajiro y su Changüí tell stories of their region and community with a sense of immediacy, of people doing what they do, palpable. A vital historical document – and a party in a box.