Madera

Andean music is the ultimate ex-pat music, not only because it works well in shopping arcades, but because so many Chileans who were forced into exile in the 1970s carried it away with them as a song of exile. Andrés Dávalos, Andrés Palma and Christian Moya – the trio that make up Andino Suns – are the sons of exiles (in case you hadn’t spotted the pun in their band name) and hail from Regina, Saskatchewan, in Canada. They all pluck a mean charango (lute) and deliver smooth vocals. While Dávalos plays the quena – the classic Andean flute – he steers well clear of panpipe exhalations and other clichés. He also occasionally blows on a trutruca, a Mapuche wind instrument that delivers a haunting, slightly bovine sound. This is their third album and the title, Madera (Wood), alludes to the earthy, acoustic sound they and the five backing musicians nurture. All eight songs are mellow easy-listening numbers, imbued with a melancholy, dreamy mood evoking the landscapes of the Andean high plains, but also the Canadian prairies. There are no overt politics here, certainly not of the kind that Chilean groups such as Quilapayún or Inti-Illimani bring to bear, but the very act of preserving the music has an unquestionable social value. Madera is likeable and lilting, if a little tame.