Bodega Hop: Latin Hip-Hop, Rap + Reggaeton | Bodega Pop 15

Listen to the first track


Listen to the next track


Listen to track 8

Just reupped the 24-song mix here.

Before I moved into my new apartment last month and discovered the little Mexican bodega off Broadway near Steinway from whence the CDs on which I found many of these tracks were plucked, this mix wouldn't have been possible. Was that sentence grammatically correct? It's late; I can't tell. More importantly, I don't care.

I do care about my regular visitors and I'm well aware just how much I've neglected the Bodega shelves since the big move. So this insanely great ear-curling collection goes out to all of you, with the promise of much more to come.

Pepe Caicedo | El Negrito de Oro

Listen to "Fatima"

Get the whole album aqui.

Hola mi compañeros. I know nothing about this man, other than the fact that he has a lovely voice, hails from Ecuador and sings in Spanish. I plucked this lovely musical offering from the same table where I found yesterday's psych/garage gem. It cost me $4. But, for you? I give to you for free, mi amiga. 

Boddega | Lo Mejor De Boddega

Listen to "Dame Tu Amor"


Listen to "Seremos Dos" 

Get the whole album here.

A super-group formed in late 1971 in Guayaquil, Ecuador, Bodegga was made up of former members of sixties bands Los Hippies, Los Picapiedras, Los Vanders and Los Cardenales. They recorded two albums (1973, 1975) and an EP (1974), toured incessently while going through numerous personnel changes before disbanding for good in 1980. They came up with their name because their first practice space was a bodega--though I'm not sure from the Spanish-language Wikipedia page where I gleaned this fact whether the bodega in that instance was a wine cellar or a storage room. (Seriously.) The present collection, which draws its two dozen tracks from those three records and previously uncollected singles was published in 1983.

I found this gem literally on the street in east Jackson Heights; I bought it for from a woman who was selling all manner of Ecuadoran goods from a table she'd plopped down on the northwest corner of Roosevelt and 85th just outside of what I recall being a phone card store. As the 7 train rattled overhead, I managed to talk the woman into selling me 10 CDs for $4 a piece--no small feat, considering that I don't speak Spanish and she didn't speak English. I can't remember how much she was asking for them, but I know I wanted all ten I'd set aside, but that I couldn't really justify that many at her asking price.

I almost didn't post this record; as you can probably imagine, the gears in my brain were clicking when I picked it up: How awesome would it be to manipulate it in Photoshop (wouldn't be too hard to remove one of the "D"s in BODDEGGA) and use it as the cover of some comp or other--perhaps even a comp of Ecuadoran music? It's a tribute to the awesomeness of the actual CD that I finally broke down this evening and have posted it for you, instead. 

Maruja Serrano | Valsecitos Criollos

Grab it here.

Yet more awesomeness from Ecuador. This woman does this this thing with her voice that I've personally not heard outside of recordings from Cambodia -- that super-leap that I'm sure has a technical name of some kind associated with it, but which I only know as "that super leap." Do you know what I mean? No? Would you, like ... mind working with me here? Super leap. C'mon.

This woman is going to kick your ass. La musica esta no horrifically somber as everything else I've been picking up from Ecuador -- in fact, by comparison, it's downright life-affirming (altho I'm convinced it's probably addressing the same depressing life/love problems) -- but Holy Crap, what her voice does. Okay, it's like yodeling? But groovy. And look at her. Is that a face that says "Oh ignore me I'm not very talented"? No; no, it's not. We both know that. Look at her. Just ... look at her! And listen to this:

Carlota Jaramillo | Eternamente

Reupped in 320kbps here.

Found in a bodega somewhere in Jackson Heights, Queens. Known as the Queen of Canción Nacional, Jaramillo was born in 1904 and performed for a solid half century, from 1922 up until 1972. This album was compiled in 1997, a decade after Jaramillo's death.

Listen to the first song from this collection:

Juarez Villamar Sisters | una tumba para los dos

Reupped in 320 Xtremely Fabulous KBPS, because it's just that awesome, here.

[Originally posted May 5, 2011.] I found this incredible gem in a bodega in east Jackson Heights, in what I believe was an Ecuadoran bodega, although it's been a few years, so perhaps it was Columbian or Mexican. I have found nothing other than a few YouTube videos featuring the Juarez Villamar sisters, so if you have any info, it would be greatly appreciated.

I don't really know Spanish, but the title seems to be "A Tomb for the Two." Gack. Is it really that morbid? I'll say this much, it's intensely beautiful, one of my favorite CDs of all time, not to mention that it sports one of the grooviest covers to boot. Here's a video of the sisters to enjoy while you download:

Maxima Mejia | Greatest Hits

[Originally posted on March 12, 2012.] Several weeks ago, bored on a Saturday or Sunday, I decided it was time to revisit one of my favorite areas of Queens: Jackson Heights east. Basically, this means taking the 7 train out to the 82nd Street stop and walking east more-or-less along Roosevelt for 10-20 blocks or so. I won't go into the details of that trip, except to say that every single CD store that I used to frequent there when I was making more regular trips was gone. Most notably, the bodega with the wall of Ecuadoran CDs where I found this morning's offering. [Note on July 28, 2013: On a much more recent trip to the same area, I found a different store that I'd missed before -- I'll be posting some especially fabulous Ecuadorean CDs from that trip soon, perhaps even this evening.]

I know zip about Maxima Mejia other than that she was from Ecuador and sings passionately. And that I've been meaning to post her greatest hits CD here for quite a while, as I think you're going to like it.

Reupped in 320 thrill-seeking kbps here.

Julio Jaramillo, Mis Mejores Boleros (vol. 1)

Download entire CD here.

In August of 2008, I took a week off work for what I had hoped to be an uneventful "staycation." Unfortunately, I found myself, the Friday night prior to my week off, digging around in Chowhound. Nothing wrong with that. Except that this time I happened to stumble onto someone's Google map of every taco, quesadilla, tamale, burrito, and fresh juice truck parked in East Jackson Heights, Queens.

To the extent that my plans for the week involved nothing more or less than throwing my ass onto the couch and watching as many Hong Kong movies as I could cram into 168 hours, I was, to put it baldly, fucked.

And, though I managed to remain indoors glued to the TV Saturday and Sunday, sure enough, on Monday morning at 8:30 a.m. I found myself wide awake, making a transfer from the G train to the 7. By 9:00 a.m. I was in East Jackson Heights, or "EJH," sucking down the most glorious chorizo sopes I have ever managed to squeeze between my lips. Forgive me if I do not recount my tamale and quesadilla experiences that same day; this is a PG-13 rated blog, and I plan to keep it that way.

While wandering around EJH, I took a series of photos, eventually finding myself in a bit of hot water after I took a quick snap of a funky bookstore in a sort of Jackson Heights-y "mall" type situation.

"I know the LAW!" the bookstore owner bleated into my ear as he grabbed my arm forcibly, trying to wrest my camera away. Had I had my wits about me, I'd have explained that I, too, know the law, and that--whether or not my taking a photo of his bookstore was legal--his grabbing my arm like that was, technically speaking, assault.

But, no; I was groggy from all of the cornmeal, cheese, chorizo, and beans. I deleted the photo of his bookstore as he watched, and moved on.

Perhaps it was for the best. In my haste to put distance between myself and this rather unpleasant experience, I stumbled upon an Ecuadorian bodega that seemed to stretch all the way back to Ecuador itself. One entire wall seemed to house nothing but CDs, glistening hauntingly, wantonly beneath their shrinkwrap. Rubbing my reddened arm, I slipped in.

I knew, and still know, next to nothing about Julio Jaramillo. Googling him this morning, I see that he was one of Ecuador's most popular singers, comparable to our own Frank Sinatra. He died young (aged 42) in 1978, but by then had recorded more than 4,000 songs.

I have no idea what happened to the bodega where I found this CD. I've been back to EJH many times, but have not been able to locate it again. I can, however, if you are nice to me, tell you where to get the best chorizo sope you can expect to find in the 718 area.