En La Calle by Contraviento: A Latin Gem from Uruguay That Still Hits Different
Alright, so let’s talk about En La Calle by Contraviento. This album dropped back in 2000 (yeah, Y2K was a thing then) under the CVTO label, and it’s one of those records that kinda sneaks up on you. It’s got this raw, unpolished charm—like someone just opened a window into Montevideo and let the streets sing through the speakers. The genre is straight-up Latin, but it doesn’t box itself in; there are moments where candombe rhythms meet something almost jazzy or rock-tinged. And honestly? That mix works.
Now, I gotta say—the tracklist feels like a playlist your cool older cousin made for you. There’s some repetition here and there (like "Estreno 8 De Mayo" showing up twice), but hey, maybe they just wanted to make sure you didn’t miss it. Two tracks really stuck with me though: “Este Es Mi Montevideo” and “Los Girasoles De Van Gogh.”
First off, “Este Es Mi Montevideo.” Man, if you’ve ever been to Uruguay—or even dreamed about going—this song nails it. It’s not flashy or overproduced; it’s more like a love letter to the city. You can practically hear the cobblestone streets and smell the mate floating in the air while listening to it. The lyrics feel personal, like Contraviento is inviting you into their world. Plus, the percussion has this heartbeat vibe to it, steady and grounding. Every time I hear it, I think, “Yeah, I’d totally hang out in Montevideo.”
Then there’s “Los Girasoles De Van Gogh,” which feels like stepping into an art gallery but without pretentious vibes. It’s poetic as heck, painting these vivid pictures of sunflowers and emotions swirling together. The melody builds slowly, layering instruments until you’re fully immersed. Honestly, it feels less like a song and more like a moment you wanna sit with for a bit. Like, who knew sunflowers could sound so… deep?
One thing I dig about this album is how real it feels. Nothing feels forced or overly polished—it’s messy in the best way possible. Tracks like “Candombe Colonial” bring that traditional Uruguayan flavor, while others throw curveballs that keep things interesting. Even when songs repeat, it doesn’t feel annoying—it’s more like revisiting an old friend.
But here’s the kicker: listening to En La Calle makes me wonder why Contraviento isn’t bigger outside Uruguay. Maybe it’s because they stayed true to their roots instead of chasing trends. Or maybe it’s just that the world wasn’t ready for their vibe yet. Either way, this album deserves more ears.
So yeah, give En La Calle a spin if you’re into music that tells stories without trying too hard. Just don’t blame me if you start booking flights to Montevideo after hearing it. Oh, and fun fact—you’ll probably end up humming “Este Es Mi Montevideo” at random times. Trust me, it happens.
