Album Review: Pran Nan Cho by Tempo – A Hidden Gem That’ll Stick With You
Alright, let’s talk about Pran Nan Cho by Tempo. Released in 2008 under Boogie Productions, this album is a wild ride through Folk, World, and Country vibes with a heavy dose of Compas style. It’s like someone took the heartbeat of Haiti, mixed it with some global flavor, and slapped it onto a record. The US might not be the first place you’d expect this kind of project to drop, but here we are—and honestly, I’m glad.
First off, the tracklist feels like a party playlist that got stuck on repeat—some songs show up twice, which either means Tempo really wanted to drive the point home or someone fell asleep at the editing wheel. Either way, it kinda works. Tracks like Apiyé Sou Mwen (Carnaval) and Don’t Cry Girl stand out for different reasons, and they’re the ones I can’t shake off.
Apiyé Sou Mwen (Carnaval) hits hard right out the gate. It’s got that infectious Compas groove—you know, the one that makes your shoulders bounce even if you’re just sitting there trying to act cool. The energy screams carnival vibes, like you’re walking through the streets of Port-au-Prince with drums pounding all around you. There’s something raw about it, like it wasn’t overproduced to death, which gives it an authentic edge. Plus, the lyrics feel like an invitation—it’s hard not to wanna join in, even if your Haitian Creole is nonexistent (guilty).
Then there’s Don’t Cry Girl, which comes at you with this smooth, almost soothing vibe. It’s the kind of song you’d throw on when life feels like it’s spiraling and you need a second to breathe. The melody sticks to you like gum on a hot sidewalk, and the chorus? Man, it’s simple but hits different every time. “Don’t cry girl / Everything’s gonna be alright” sounds cheesy written down, but when Tempo sings it, it feels less like a cliché and more like a warm hug from a friend who gets it.
The rest of the album keeps the momentum going, though some tracks blend together after a while. Songs like Entre Nous and I’m In Love have their moments, but they don’t hit as hard as the standouts. And hey, props to Tempo for throwing in tunes like Taliban and Navige, which add unexpected twists to the mix. Not sure what inspired those titles, but they keep things interesting.
If I had to sum it up, Pran Nan Cho feels like a snapshot of a specific time and place, even if it doesn’t always nail the landing. It’s messy in parts, repetitive in others, but dang if it isn’t memorable. Listening to it feels like hanging out with an old friend who tells great stories but occasionally repeats themselves. You still leave the convo smiling.
Oh, and here’s the random thought to end this review: If this album were a food, it’d be a big plate of fried plantains—sweet, a little spicy, and totally comforting. Just don’t ask me why.
