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Roberto y su Nuevo Montuno recorded their first album, “El Nuevo Montuno Llegó” (1970), when Roberto Berríos was just 22 years old. This was also the debut release on Haddock’s own Uniart label. Berríos remembers that they did the recording in two sessions, splitting it up into four tracks per visit. The engineer was the famed Pedro “Pedrito” Henríquez, who recorded El Gran Combo, Roberto Roena and many others. The band had a mix of tasty, powerful originals, from Tony Cintrón’s title track that announced the band had arrived, ‘El Nuevo Montuno Llegó,’ to Quique Dávila’s mournful ‘Triste Arrabal.’ Then there was the hit Santería themed tune, ‘Llamé a Changó,’ which was a song that Quique Dávila brought to the band, but had been originally composed by Carlos Pinto, though Quique was given the credit. Dávila also composed ‘Me Queda Un Guaguancó,’ which is Roberto’s favorite song on the record (as well as a fan favorite), with Papo sounding like his friend Héctor Lavoe, and Quique Dávila’s proud manifesto declaring that Puerto Rico now had its own son montuno, ‘Oye Tu Son, Borinquen,’ featuring the pianist’s tasty but brief solo. The cover versions came from the group’s earliest period when most of their repertoire consisted of renditions of beloved but lesser known tunes, and include Louie Ramírez’s ‘Balancéate’ (a favorite of Roberto’s from Ray Barretto’s songbook), Bobby Valentín’s ‘Monina y Ramón’ (recorded during his stint with Willie Rosario), and a bolero indelibly sung by Cheo Feliciano when he was with the Joe Cuba Sextet, ‘Dichoso,’ written by Joe Cuba’s talented pianist, Nick Jiménez. Some of the arranging was done by Cintrón and some by Dávila, though Quique had some help from his old friend from El Combo Moderno, Freddie Miranda, who at that time was with Roberto Roena’s Apollo Sound. Roberto says that the arrangements of the cover tunes were made specifically to be different and more contemporary sounding than the originals. “El Nuevo Montuno Llegó” has become a legendary salsa dura classic from Puerto Rico and we are thrilled to present this first legitimately licensed and remastered vinyl reissue. It includes detailed liner notes that reveal the untold story of the band and their debut album, and rare photos.

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The debut collaboration between techno alchemists Ben Klock and Lucy will probably provoke quivers of anticipation before a single note has been heard. After all, both producers have carved out names for themselves as scene innovators at what they do, and both have already proven that they can more than capably work in a duo format without sacrificing an iota of their unique aesthetics: in Lucy's case, there has already been the sublime Zeitgeber pairing with Speedy J., and Klock has joined forces with the likes of Marcel Dettmann to craft some of the more memorable output from the Ostgut Ton label. This new release makes good on each producer's talent for working with epically unfolding tracks, maintaining a strong command of both 'drone' and melodicism, and envisioning sound as a kind of inter-dimensional mass transit. As the record indicates, things can get very interesting when the two working methods superimpose perfectly, but can be just as interesting when the two fall slightly out of phase with one another.



Listeners familiar with the classic kosmische feel will be taken immediately by the opening gambit "Bliss," whose feeling of floating through the coldness of space is accompanied here by nicely warm production values. The bassline that introduces the subsequent track ("War Lullaby") is close to being a continuation of the opener's leitmotif sequence, although with a change in atmosphere that will keep curious ears from turning away too soon: an FX-shrouded voice delivers a monologue at once seductive and foreboding, followed by a confident kick thump with ephemeral trailing clatters in tow. This affective orientation pulses through the whole record well, building up to the second rhythmic track ("Santeria") which is the busiest and most engaging of the bunch. Here a variety of sonic flavorings are ritually thrown into the pot and allowed to simmer - fleeting snatches of conga, phasing zaps and rhythmic ricochets all make for a rich concoction that epitomizes the progress that has been made in techno music within this decade. The closing "A Ghost Love story," like the opener, is a non-'dance' piece, but is no less compelling for that fact: as a foam of white noise pans between the listener's ears, a slurred / pitch-bent refrain conjures the feeling of either entering or exiting from some erotically tinged hypnagogic state.



Speaking of which, the overall impression given off by this record is that of a special kind of reciprocity: that is, of dreams influencing reality and reality feeding back into dreams. The rhythmic intensity of these tracks, at once an indicator of a hard and immediate reality, is regularly complemented by oneiric flourishes that make the partitioning line between these two realms of consciousness less distinct. As the next chapter in the Stroboscopic Artefacts saga, and in the personal journeys of both Ben Klock and Lucy, it will contribute to the ongoing mission of all these parties: giving longtime fans what they want while expanding their consciousness and inquisitiveness.