Barí

1	Intro 0:41
2	Tiempo de Soleá 3:06
3	Ventilaor R-80 3:20
4	Naita 3:46
5	Quien Engaña No Gana 3:20
6	Zambra 6:46
7	Ley de Gravidad 3:49
8	Memorias Perdías 3:22
9	Tanguillo de María 3:28
10	Bulería del Ay! 3:28
11	Calé Barí 5:17
12	Acción Reacción Repercusión Bonus Track 3:26
13	Rememorix Bonus Track 8:59

Barnes & Noble

Barcelona's hip-hop flamenco collective has been making waves in the world music community on the strength of their dynamic live shows, which combine a battery of percussionists, a pair of flamenco guitarists, a DJ, dancer, and the dervish-like vocalist Marina Abad, "La Canillas." From the intensely rhythmic traditions of Catalan Gypsies, Ojos (the name translates as the Wizard's Eyes) takes fiery, improvisational music making and a radical devotion to art, passion, and social justice. Hip-Hop, meanwhile, provides their lyrical grist, with odes to graffiti and break-dancing, as well as the scratches and samples that contemporize their sound. Those who have seen Ojos live, an energetic, multimedia spectacle, may be surprised by the subtlety of Barí, which makes voice and guitar a more prominent part of the mix. Some tracks would fit quite comfortably in a flamenco mix alongside the Gipsy Kings or Paco de Lucía, in fact. But on numbers such as "Quien Engaña no Gana," which features tablas and whispered rap, and the frenetic "Zambra," whose electro samples invoke a trance club, it's clear that Ojos are blazing new trails. The band's bracing lyrical agenda, demanding social justice and championing immigrants' rights, be they Gypsy or North African, puts them firmly in the camp of Latin rock rabble-rousers such as Mano Negra and Ozomatli. For a taste of Spain's most up-to-the-minute fusion, look through this wizard's eyes, or better, listen through his ears. Mark Schwartz

All Music Guide

Blame our postmodern fascination with sampling, or the hubris of generations who have grown up more familiar with copies than with the originals, but at this point we've pretty near wrung all meaning out of the word fusion. And when it comes to describing the kinds of exciting developments in world music exemplified by nuevo flamenco artists Ojos de Brujo, perhaps a new metaphor is necessary. Something more organic, even geological. Yes, that's it: When listening to Barí, the Barcelona-based group's second release, the image that fits is not that of hip-hop, funk, rap, or rumba newly melded with traditional flamenco music, but of rock layers that an ancient and moving river lays bare. The oldest strata date for the migration from India of the Roma people, called Gypsies in Spain, mixed with North African Moors. Layered upon their oral culture, their folk songs and sinuous dancing, a bluesy lament about the hard life of the fulag mengu -- the Arabic phrase for "fugitive peasant" and likely origin of the word "flamenco" -- after Ferdinand and Isabela made Christianity the law of the land. Next, the rural accents of those who hid in the southern hills of Andalusia, and the Afro-Caribbean rhythms learned by those who fled to the colonies. Some of these rhythms were carried back to Ojos de Brujo vocalist Marina Abad and drummer Xavi Turull by Cuban musicians they've played with along the way, while others already existed in the elemental flamenco grooves, the rumbas and tanguillos and bulerías, laid down by guitarist Ramon Giménez. On top is a contemporary urban landscape of stray bullets and bill collectors, precisely rendered by Abad's socially conscious staccato rapping. If all of this seems like a bit of a stretch, note the traditional handclapping that punctuates the opening guitar riff, and its relation to the percussively rapped syllables that chatter like water over rocks at the album's close. Listen to the eroded consonants of "Naita" ("Nothing"), to the fossil of a flamenco lyric with which it begins, and how seamlessly it progresses to an outcropping of hip-hop near its finale. Consider that the classic songs of Gypsy legend el Camarón set to rumba and offered as consolation to modern-day fulag mengu as "Ventilaor Rumba 80" invites them to dance to ancient rhythms. Or that today's dangerous streets can necessitate the ancient Moorish melodies and sorrowful mode of "Tiempo de Soleá," while an email from a fetchingly green-eyed boy inspires the invention of the funk-fueled "Bulería del Ay!" You just can't pull the elements or eras apart. All of this is music is firmly grounded in flamenco, with fusion occurring not just at a superficial level, but deep below its surface, as its oldest and most enduring process. Listeners who are as interested in where flamenco has been as they are in where it is going will love exploring the sonorous depths of Ojos de Brujo's Barí. Jenny Gage