El Baile Maritim / Himno Deportivo Maritim: A Niche Gem from 1984
Let’s get one thing straight—this isn’t your typical pop album. Released in 1984 by the Maritim Hotel Tenerife, El Baile Maritim / Himno Deportivo Maritim is a quirky, brass-heavy project that feels like it was made for a very specific crowd. Maybe it’s the kind of record you’d stumble upon in a dusty Spanish flea market or hear echoing faintly at a local sports event. But beneath its niche appeal lies something oddly compelling.
The album dabbles in genres like pop and military-style brass, with a stylistic nod to pipe and drum arrangements. It’s not groundbreaking by any stretch, but it has this weird charm that sticks with you. Produced by J. Iglesias (yep, sounds familiar, doesn’t it?) and arranged by Javier Iturralde, the whole thing feels meticulously crafted, even if it wasn’t destined for global fame. Credit also goes to engineer José Antonio Alvarez Alija, who probably had his work cut out balancing all those horns and drums.
Now, let’s talk tracks. The titular opener, “El Baile Maritim,” hits you with an infectious energy right off the bat. It’s upbeat, full of bold brass blasts, and carries this festive vibe that’s hard to ignore. You can almost picture a group of people dancing awkwardly yet joyfully in some retro hotel ballroom on Tenerife. Rafael Angulo Garaikoetxea, the songwriter behind both tracks, clearly knew how to craft melodies that stick. This one? It’s memorable—not because it’s complex, but because it’s fun. Like, toe-tapping, grin-inducing fun.
Then there’s “Himno Deportivo Maritim,” which takes things in a slightly more serious direction. If the first track is a party, this one feels like a rallying cry. With its marching-band rhythm and triumphant tone, it could easily double as a sports anthem—or maybe just the soundtrack to someone jogging around Santa Cruz de Tenerife in their Adidas sneakers. There’s something oddly motivational about it, even if you don’t speak Spanish or know what the lyrics are saying. Sometimes music doesn’t need words to make you feel pumped.
What strikes me most about this album is how unapologetically local it feels. It wasn’t trying to conquer the world; it was content being a piece of its time and place. That said, listening to it now feels like stepping into a time capsule. You’re transported to mid-’80s Spain, where hotels apparently commissioned albums to celebrate themselves, and no one blinked twice at the idea.
So yeah, would I recommend this album? Honestly, it depends. If you’re into obscure records with a unique flair, this might be your jam. But beyond that, it’s worth appreciating for what it represents—a snapshot of creativity tied to a location, era, and vibe that’s long gone. Plus, whoever thought a hotel needed its own anthem deserves some props.
Final thought? Next time you stay at a hotel, imagine if they handed you a vinyl instead of a keycard. Weird, right? But kinda cool too.
