Words by Justin Turford
The globetrotting Mexican born DJ, curator, producer and label boss Coco Maria has proved herself as a tastemaker of the highest order on her radio shows, live gigs and as a compiler for the ace Bongo Joe Records. Her two volumes of ‘Coco Maria presents..’ for the Swiss label are packed with the wonkier end of contemporary Afro-Latino/Caribbean sounds and she stayed in the same lane when launching her own imprint Club Coco with a compilation - ‘Club Coco: New Dimensions in Latin Music’ - that featured, amongst many lawless Latin-fuelled burners, a filthy slab of party funk from a certain Charlie Chimi.
Sounding like ‘Check Your Head’ era Beastie Boys or some lost Latin-funk number from the 1970s, ‘Échale Candela’ is powered by a clattering drum roll reminiscent of The Meters sample on Amerie’s R&B bomb ‘1 Thing’, and is a perfect example of the bold, don’t-give-a-fuck attitude of this Dominican Republic-raised Cuban artist now residing in Brooklyn. All of these geographical locations (and more) have their sonic imprint stamped on his debut album for Coco’s label, a record that treats borders and genres as mere playthings, a blast of irreverent, sassy fun and casual experimentalism.
“Disco Chimi was never a plan. It became a collection of experiences and collaborations shaped by the places and moments that I was living through,”
In real life called Charles Garmendia, Chimi’s alter ego is named after a Dominican street burger and there’s a street level vibe about his music be it rumberos playing Afro-Cuban rhythms on the congas or the New York garage edge that greases the wheels.
The first track ‘Columbia’ drops us straight into a late night Havana jam session. A wordless percussion jam between Chimi and Bitilla y sus Rumberos on various hand drums and percussion instruments and some exhilarating flute action from Bellinda Guerra. Short (like all of the songs), vibing and a perfect curtain-raiser for the record.
‘Ven Pa’cá’ in contrast, is a growling slice of dirty live drums, unsettling keys and a raw punkish attitude, Chimi’s simple yet surreal vocal sharing similarities to tropicalistas Meridian Brothers or Alex Figueira, a feral joy in the absurd.
Photo by Amalia Echemendía
The chugging groove of ‘Un Cafecito (Por Favor)’ plods (and pleads) along with a drunken synth bass, loose live drums and an uncredited saxophonist who duets kind of jazzily with Chimi’s cold, syncopated voice through a brooding Nuyorican street. A brief but clearly told tale of an exhausted, desperate man.
With the vintage drum machine set on the rumba setting and with a wickedly elastic bass line, Chimi, Alberto Cartaya and Ricardo Moré sing a bizarre backstreet hustle, a narcotic vision where “Tengo que explotar mi hermano” (I need to blow up my brother).
Like the nightmare its title exclaims, ‘Pesadilla’ is a short, sharp shock of speeding up drums, unhinged bass and twisted female vocals lost in a swirl of reverb that moan, laugh and mock. Like a 70s Euro-horror scene, it’s somehow sexy, scary and generally mental.
The most obvious potential crossover track (in my universe anyway) is the seductive groover ‘Rico’, an unpolished dubby-Italo-Disco jam with 4/4 dancefloor energy and a teasing vocal duet between Chimi and Maria Magdalena. Cheap synths, messy disco drums and a wandering bass line keep it solid, the repeated lyrical refrain is both flirtatious and hinting at danger.
The first single off the album, ‘Cachú’ hurtles along with a hip 60’s spy theme tune energy. Imagine frenetic mini-skirted dancers with beat group drums and tripped out vocals that constantly call out for ‘Chimi’, our hero. He’s obviously having a lot of fun on this record and don’t we all need some these days?
We return to the ritualised Afro-Cuban jam on ‘Nokiambique’, Bellinda and Bitilla y sus Rumberos rejoining Chimi on a joyous percussion and flute dance that could go on for days but sadly doesn’t.
Living somewhere between reggaeton and rockabilly, the mobile phone worshipping ‘Celular (Original)’ (scroll to top for the video) has the full band finally together and it could be from anywhere and everywhere! Funny, funky and with traces of highlife in the horns, this is such a cool little number.
The jaunty bar piano jam of ‘Manín (De lo Mío)’ is another loose yet exuberant tune that sounds baked in from a late night rum and weed session. A lovely layered vocal from Maria and some wonky synth noises add another strata of charm to its mischievous spirit.
Hypnotic and quite restrained for Chimi, ‘Claro que Sí (Cómo no)’ bumps along with a simple drum machine groove, live percussion and the title as a looping refrain. This could be weirdly great dance music for the wrong time of the day.
The final track on the album is unlike everything that has preceded it. Moodily sedated and very hallucinogenic, ‘Espejo’ is a slow dance for the recently dead. The drums are tight but everything else feels ‘off’ and appears to slide sideways as it keeps going. It reminds me a bit of the hazy darkness of King Krule and that’s a big compliment in my book.
If Charlie Chimi’s ‘real’ world is as colourful and enjoyable as his sonic world then I’m jealous. His debut album is such a laugh without it being ‘jokey’ music, funky without being straight up funk and influenced by the wider world without fitting easily into any regional cultural box. Just stick it on, turn it up and enjoy his Brooklyn-Havana-Santa Domingo party because it’s a riot! 8/10.