Latin Beat

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Ibrahim Ferrer, Ruben González, Compay Segundo have all waltzed from this arthritic mortal coil to the heavenly Havana ballrooms of last century, but their life force is forever preserved on the new Buena Vista Social Club At Carnegie Hall (World Circuit/Nonesuch). A one-night-only 1998 concert that became the heart of Wim Wenders’ watershed documentary of the same name comes across all too fleeting at 78 minutes over two discs, opening with the now lump-in-throat-inducing “Chan Chan” and ending 15 tracks later with “Silencio.”

Group vox aren’t as cutting as lead vocal vehicles for Eliades Ochoa (eight minutes of “El Cuarto de Tula”), piano whisperer González (golden anniversary instrumental “La Engañadora/Buena Vista Social Club”), and Ferrer, in duet with la reyna Omara Portuondo on the sublime closer. Only the second release in the franchise to feature all members of BVSC, Carnegie Hall houses the heart of all three subsequent Ochoa releases in the U.S., both González Nonesuch touchstones, and Ferrer’s trio of titles on the same label. Portuondo too. Hold a candle to them all.

Cuba’s golden age becomes ivory trade in the 90-year-old hands of Bebo Valdes, father to piano great Chucho Valdes, and whose Live at the Village Vanguard (Calle 54/Norte) in duo format with double-bassist Javier Colina tracks 20th Century classicism with isle spice and inland intelligentsia. “Siboney,” the cascading/serenading “Bilongo,” standards both, plus Gershwin-winked, stride piano-kissed “Bebo’s Blues,” and closing Bill Evans “Waltz for Debby” grow increasingly vital as the set progresses, wisdom and virtuosity rippling monumentally spry and satisfying.

Bogotá, Colombia, institution Aterciopelados, led by long tall priestess Andrea Echeverri and musical mainframe Hector Buitrago, finally get their groove back almost a decade after 2000 global breakthrough Gozo Poderoso. Greatest hits, solo projects, and a somewhat slack 2006 comeback, Oye, recede in the pan-Latin tropicalia of Rio (Nacional), swaying across the borders and water rights of the Americas. Echevarri, who punctuated the duo’s recorded peak with her matriarchy, here revels in the miracle of life cycles, from the Latin reggae of babymama “28” and the Egyptian pierced “Gratis” to the delicious feline stretch into “Vals” (waltz), defiant environmentalism of “Bandera, ” and predatory swagger of tiger milked “Hijos de Tigre.” A-ter-cio-pe-la-dos are back.

Former Argentine comedienne Juana Molina remains another leading lady of the Latin Beat, having recorded her fourth disc Un Dîa (Domino) entirely Princess-like in Buenos Aires. Compared by this forum to Thom Yorke on the occasion of her 2006 bewitching, Son , Molina now disappears even further into electro atmospherics, multi-tracking her vocals into a ghostly chorus of poltergeists in the machine. The digitized beat of handclaps and percussive clops quietly stampede the spidery filigree of of cooing oohs and ahhs, best inhabited by the lead-off title track and seven minutes of shrooming to “Los Hongos de Marosa.” Ba-donka-donk “Dar (Qué Difícil)” (give; how hard) ends the séance of slink on an upbeat of irresistible loop.

Plastilina Mosh, Monterrey duo Jonaz and Alejandro Rosso, insist All U Need is Mosh (Nacional), or is that Mash given the pair’s irreverent collision of Orange County punk buggy riffs, girlie choruses, and Beckian insouciance. Bratty and benign, Mosh beats at least one classic in “Danny Trejo,” the ultimate Tinseltown name drop in contrast to the more obvious “Jonaz Goes to Hollywood.” The curtain call, “Pervert Pop Song,” bows the disc’s most sincere songcraft, antidote to the DJs otherwise same old schtick of plasticine sound design. Beauty Bar beats bang better live.