Return of the Cumbia


We’ve just come back from a very pleasant couple of days motoring around mid Wales, plodding up hill and down dale, drinking and eating lavishly (ish) and pottering around charming market towns, and all of it to the lumbering, overpowering soundtrack of more Peruvian Cumbia.

DJ Chorizo Funk

The cd hogging the player for most of the time was one burned from a belting mixtape from some feller calling himself DJ Chorizo Funk (I know, I know, but bear with me…). I think the mix was put together to celebrate the reopening of a club called Peligrosa in Austin, but I’m way out of my comfort zone here. It’s a terrific mix of razor-sharp brass riffs, reedy organ sounds, and plaintive calls from the heart in half-intelligible Spanish, all of it glued together with the goofy bumpety-bump rhythms of Cumbia.

And it’s free to download. (Yes!)




I was at the rugby a fortnight ago with my pal, Martin, who not unreasonably asked me if I’d heard anything good recently. Inexplicably, I was taken by surprise and muttered some incoherent nonsense about Cumbia – I think I even trotted out some predictable rubbish about “summer sounds” and it being “irresistible”.


My cack-handed inarticulacy has bugged the hell out of me ever since, and I’ve spent more than a few quiet moments in the days since composing the sort of beguiling testimony that the sparkling players of Columbia and Peru deserve.

I hope he asks me again…

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