103 Songs? This Artist Isn’t Counting

Who is the edgiest, most adventurous artist in rock en espanol ? Andres Calamaro, a singer-songwriter with a complete disregard for the conventions of the music business, is a strong candidate for the honor.

Calamaro has taken his most openly anarchic step by releasing “El Salmon,” a five-CD set with 103 songs. It’s a monumental work that’s as mesmerizing as it is infuriating, a maddening mixture of gorgeous tunes and chaotic throwaways.

Calamaro’s knack for catchy hooks has gained him considerable commercial recognition in the past two decades, with the groups Los Abuelos de la Nada and Los Rodriguez, as well as on his own, for 1997’s “Alta Suciedad,” a more conventional solo effort that actually fit on a single disc.

But Calamaro, 40, doesn’t seem to have commerce in mind these days. He has stopped touring, declines requests for interviews, and divides his time between Spain and his native Argentina, obsessed by the process of recording songs ... and more songs.

In the United States, “El Salmon” (The Salmon) is available through WEA Latina as a single release containing an enriched version of the epic’s first disc. But hard-core fans of Latin rock should invest in the entire set, which was released by Warner Music Argentina and can be bought as an import from online retailers.

Delving into this ambitious, fascinating work offers a glimpse into the soul of an artist who appears to be intent on minimizing the distance between music maker and listener, between rock star and fan.

Surrounded by a choice group of collaborators, Calamaro places you in the middle of his rehearsing space, pushing the record button every time he feels he has something to say.

Often enough, he does. When he rocks, Calamaro sounds like a Latino Lou Reed, as in “Output--Input,” with its mordant lyrics about S&M;, drag queens and Big Macs. When he goes pop, he sounds like a composer of advertising jingles on an alcohol binge, satirizing himself and our shallow need for hummable ditties. There are also moments of pure punk, reggae, blues, ‘80s new wave, love poems and obscene rhymes.

It is the softer side of Calamaro, however, that really shines. There are some dreamy, memorable moments in “El Salmon,” such as the elegiac “Gaviotas” and the smoky “Para Seguir.” Both make it easy to visualize the artist sitting by the piano, accompanied by the velvety sound of a muted trumpet, intoxicated by his creativity and saddened by the possible futility of the artistic process.

Not all of the 103 songs are Calamaro’s. He supplements his compositions with material from other composers, from a handful of Lennon-McCartney staples (his version of “The Long and Winding Road” is particularly nostalgic) to the Velvet Underground’s “Cocaine” and the Rolling Stones’ “Under My Thumb,” as well a number of classic tangos. He interprets the last in true tango fashion, his gruff voice spitting out the words in disgust, mirroring the genre’s morbid fascination with bitterness and defeat.

At the end of the fifth disc, Calamaro delivers a bluesy tune titled “Este Es El Final De Mi Carrera.” “This is the end of my career,” he says. And, commercially speaking, he might be right. The singer doesn’t quite fit with the current image of rock en espanol as a fun, percolating genre dominated by Afro-Caribbean fusions and a youthful, party-friendly vibe.

But Calamaro is not about to quit yet. Since he finished “El Salmon” in July last year, he has, according to a recent report from Madrid, recorded more than 200 new songs.

He plans to release them soon.

* * * The Cuban Hip Hop All-Stars, “The Cuban Hip Hop All-Stars, Vol. 1,” Papaya. Last year, the Paris-based Cuban collective Orishas changed the course of rap en espanol with a debut album that successfully combined hip-hop with rumba and other Afro-Caribbean styles. As it turns out, Orishas is only the tip of the iceberg.

Gathering 12 hip-hop outfits from Cuba, this compilation makes for some fascinating listening. Some of the beats and rhymes are precarious (listening to the MCs saying “represent” in their thick Spanish accents is pretty hilarious.) On the other hand, the richness of Spanish vernacular makes it ideal for labyrinthine verse and tongue-in-cheek puns. The most ingenious track belongs to Havana’s Reyes de las Calles, who sample a funky riff from Los Van Van’s 1974 classic “La Havana Joven,” play with nursery rhymes and deliver some thoughtful rhymes by envisioning the possibility of a black God.

* * * Fermin Muguruza, “FM 99.00 Dub Manifesto,” Piranha. If you are a fan of European rock en espanol artists such as Manu Chao and Sergent Garcia, you will probably love the latest from Muguruza. Continuing the legacy he started with cult ‘80s group Negu Gorriak, the singer combines the sonic influence of the Clash with the ideology of the Basque separatist movement. This results in volatile music that’s equal parts dub, reggae, salsa, punk and ska. Even though the lyrics are in Euskera (the old, poetic language of the Basque people), the urgency in Muguruza’s voice transcends cultural barriers, placing these anarchic tunes safely above the comfort zone of party music. *