![]() He’d play the records one by one while I tried to relate to him with my poor, broken Spanish what I liked and disliked about some of the records he’d play. In Bogota, when I dragged Kasey to a dusty, local record store slightly off the beaten path and asked the owner what traditional Colombian music he recommended, he produced a foot and a half tall pile of cumbia records. In the tropical wall-ringed Cartagena, for example, rhythmic, Caribbean-inspired cumbias spilled out of small clubs packed full of late night revelers into the early hours of morning. I only first knowingly experienced cumbia last year when Kasey and I visited Colombia. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |