Album Review: Guitare et tambourins by Luis Mariano (1950)
Alright, let me tell ya about this little gem I stumbled upon—Guitare et tambourins by Luis Mariano. It’s one of those albums that feels like it came straight outta a time machine from 1950s Canada. Yeah, you heard me right, Canada. Not exactly the first place you think of when it comes to pop music back then, but here we are. Released on Pathé, this record has a vibe that’s both charmingly old-school and kinda timeless.
Now, there’s something raw and heartfelt about this album that hits different. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t try too hard to be perfect. It just is. Two tracks stood out for me, and honestly, they’re the reason I can’t stop thinking about this thing.
First up, “Le Guerillero.” Whoa, this track is a ride. The moment it starts, you’re hit with this swaying rhythm that feels like dancing in a smoky café somewhere in Paris—or maybe Montreal? Either way, it’s got this tension, like it’s telling a story you don’t fully understand but still feel deep in your chest. Luis Mariano’s voice? Pure magic. He doesn’t just sing; he lives every word. You can almost picture him standing there, pouring his soul into the mic. By the end, you’re left wondering if you just heard a love song or some kind of battle cry. Honestly, it’s wild how much emotion he packs into three minutes.
Then there’s the title track, “Guitares Et Tambourins.” This one feels like sunshine breaking through clouds after a storm. There’s a playful energy here that makes you want to grab someone’s hand and spin around until you’re dizzy. The guitar work is simple but so effective—it’s like it’s inviting you to join in on the fun. And those tambourines? Clanging away like they’ve got no care in the world. It’s impossible not to smile while listening to this. If “Le Guerillero” is the heart of the album, this is its spirit.
But here’s the kicker—what really gets me is how these songs feel so alive despite being nearly 75 years old. Like, sure, the production isn’t as polished as what we’re used to today, but that’s part of the charm. It’s real. No autotune, no overthinking—just a guy, his band, and a whole lot of passion.
So yeah, Guitare et tambourins might not be the flashiest album out there, but it’s got this quiet power that sneaks up on you. Listening to it made me realize something kinda funny: sometimes the simplest things stick with you the longest. Oh, and also? I now have an uncontrollable urge to learn how to play the tambourine. Go figure.
