Kabwlú

Legendary Medellin record label Discos Fuentes is not known for its novelty releases, but Kabwlú, a hard-to-find 1965 album, is just that. The name of the band, which was a short-lived nine-piece, is Spanish for The Flintstones, and there’s something cartoonish about the whole endeavour – starting with the animal-skin togas the band sport on the sleeve. The 12 tracks run the gamut of genres played by many Colombian teenage-oriented groups of the time, including cumbia, gaita, rock, twist and pachanga. There’s a smattering of surf, doo-wop, guajira, ska, and calypso. ‘El Bulevar de la Desilusion’ has the gloomy sway of tango. ‘Mira Mira’ claims to be pon pon (nothing to do with the Nigerian Afro-pop spinoff). But whatever the genre, it’s overlaid with off-kilter arrangements, out-of-tune vocals and instruments, clanging percussion, cosmic sound effects and twanging electric guitar.

The overall effect is of psychedelic cabaret music, with plenty of potted plants and plastic serpents in the cave. Latin music often uses nonsense words and chants to suggest glee and passion. Here they are presumably intended to evoke the cacophonic calls of the knuckle-dragger as he charms his tigress of a lover. Even the album title is intentionally unpronounceable, aping the imagined simian gruntings of Stone Age Man. A few of Los Picapiedra’s songs are popular in Colombia and Venezuela, notably rebajada (slowed-down) versions of supremely catchy tracks like opener ‘La Hossa’, but their legacy remains as obscure as those original vinyl LPs are off-radar. Insignificant in the broad scheme of 60s Latin music – the inevitable fate of most novelty efforts – Kabwlú is a boulder-sized banger of raw, youthful energy and its left-field qualities never detract from its considerable musicianship – piano and pipes lead the rhythm and riotousness, respectively – and essentially festive, frolicking, fun-loving spirit.