Those of you with a long history with this blog may recall that in the dim past I offered a few LPs by mambo king Pérez Prado that were devoted to his earliest recordings. Those posts date back to 2009 and 2015.
Today I've gathered 24 more of these Prado gems, all from the late 40s and early 50s.Compiled from lossless needle-drops of 78s found on Internet Archive, these greatly expand what I've presented before, filling out our knowledge of this exciting and influential band.
In addition to the new items, I've remastered my two earlier Prado posts - his first US LP, Plays Mucho Mambo for Dancing, and a later Camden compilation, Latino! All told, there are about 40 Prado selections in the collection.
As I wrote back in 2009, "Prado was born in Cuba, but in the late 40s he moved his base of operations to Mexico City, where his version of a new dance called the mambo became wildly popular."
Even before then, the bandleader had made some records in Cuba. A few of them came out on the Discos Cafamo label in about 1947 and circulated in the US as imports in March 1949. Two of these items - "Tu Ve, Tu Ve" and "La Clave" - later appeared on the small US Monogram label, and start off our collection. I haven't been able to date the Monogram release, but I suspect it was in the early 1950s, after Prado had achieved some popularity.In mid-1949, RCA Victor's Latin-American department saw some promise in the band, and signed Prado to a contract. His first RCA release was "José" and "Macomé," which, as with all the subsequent items in this collection, were issued in RCA's International Series.
While his recordings of the time were all made in Mexico, Prado had his eyes on the much bigger American market. He tried to form an American band in early 1951, but New York union regulations prevented him from doing so. His break was soon at hand, though, in the form of a cover record.
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| Freddy, Sonny, Dave - no Pérez |
In 1951, American bandleader Sonny Burke took up "Qué Rico el Mambo" and turned it into the "Mambo Jambo," which became a hit and was covered by such unlikely advocates as sedate maestro Freddy Martin and pop guitarist Dave Barbour. I've actually featured Burke's Mambo Jambo LP, and it's not bad, but not Prado, either.
RCA must have been impressed by the "Mambo Jambo" sales - or embarrassed that it didn't have a hit with Prado's original and superior version - and soon announced that the bandleader would be recording both for the International series and for its pop series.
It took a while, but Prado would eventually have big hits in the American market - "Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White" in 1955 and "Patricia" in 1958 - plus a number of quick-selling LPs.
The records in this post, however, predate his most successful period. Most of them come from 1950-51, with the final two singles from 1953. One of those couples the title song from the film Anna with Prado's tribute to its star, Silvana Magnano.
I hope you enjoy these exceptional recordings from a remarkable band and bandleader.





17 comments:
Link (Apple lossless):
https://mega.nz/file/iUkwnQDC#jLgscDAuU978IIZoYoV3z8ZcPVzinC_8kOOAb3u2-mg
Looks like a good time, thanks Buster!
Gracias, Buster!
Thank you, Buster! They were part of my adolescence, together with Ray Anthony, Stan Kenton, Count Basie, Nelson Riddle, etc, etc.
Thanks, everyone!
cvllos - Mine as well!
Ah! sweet memories of Machito, Puente and Prado. By the way, was there any Hollywood sex queen that Prado didn't honor with a mambo? Great stuff. You saved the best for last. That arrangement is a killer. If any music could clear the smoke from Ground Zero, this was it.
Thanks, David - I just love this music,
Excellent stuff, as always, Buster!
I was downloading odd mambos from the IA just yesterday. None of them measure up to the original stuff like Prado though. Dilo!
Ernie - He's the best!
Great Stuff! Thanks Buster!
King - My pleasure!
Perez Prado is one of my favorites for entertainment music. High quality of the arrangements and wonderful musicians. So stylish ! Thanks Buster.
WHEN TOURISTS TROD THE EARTH: A FAREWELL TO SUMMER
This, or that, last summer, the bugs drove us indoors. And, except for provision-shopping, a plague kept us there. It was the second such hermetic summer in a row and there was no reason to think the next one would be any better. So hope became a wasteful luxury. Prayer seemed almost obscene because the times it was meant to save me from were so much my country's and countrymen's faults.
Slowly, the music of times more troubled ceased to have any relevance to the present, except as a kind of wildlife preserve. As such, it provided ample evidence of mercy no longer available on as mass and massive a scale as it was when the music was made. The music called to a past that was present by no longer being present or in any way available except as solace and proof of strength--alas, squandered by later generations. The music that girded my parents from the present and let them cling to dreams of a better future now seemed solely a protection against that future.
Like a character in an apocalypse novel who stumbles upon an abandoned bomb shelter heavily stocked with canned goods, long past expiration date but whose contents prove deliciously edible, I delighted in the discovery of lost treasures. Over time, I found the company of souls like myself who also found unexpected oases. What friends of my lifetime called "vintage" I called "visionary." The music was still fresh precisely because it was bereft of ingredients that led to the self-aggrandizing and irredeemably vulgar culture and music of my time.
As hard as it is to admit, alienation was a form of salvation. I began to love being stranded in a past that could no longer lead to a present I hated. and this mix is the product of that alienation. This music will not threaten you with harbingers of our present--just the glories of the present in which it was made. And, believe me, that present was Depression and war-hardened. When Irving Berlin invited us to change partners, he could never have foreseen the changes in meaning that injunction has had.
As befits escapist fare, this medley is heavily enriched with Hawaiian music and music played through the lens it provided musicians everywhere to gaze at the songs of their own homelands. Beginning in the 1920s, and lasting decades, Hawaii was the world's unofficial Fantasy Island--its music a pillar and prism of pop and jazz. As you will hear, Hawaiian stars as well as American and European stars shone in the celebrity heavens and media milieus of the times.
So let's dream of journeys we know we will not take to the Pacific, then Asia into Europe and back to the Americas. The music stretches into the 1970s as it makes room for the Brazilian paradise that replaced the Hawaiian one. The music is of every mood I could find--from cosmic to comic. There was simply no way I couldn't stop in Istanbul, but this time I let Joe "Fingers" Carr, not the Four Lads, do the serenading. Other songs also have performers you might not expect or have heard of. One of my favorite songs of all-time, "On a Little Street in Singapore," is sung by Dick Stewart--an earnest voice who made only one album I know of. Sinatra weighs in with one of Jobim's most profoundly personal compositions, "Song of the Sabia." I am sure the composer, who was present at the 1969 session when it was recorded, wept when he heard the playback. It is one of Frank's greatest recordings.
https://we.tl/t-dYa6PJHGIT
Thanks for the nostalgia trip, Buster. In our small record cabinet there was a Perez Prado ten incher which came out when the folks hosted parties. It's fun music and my Old Man could cut a rug.
Thanks to David, too. I am much obliged to both of you.
Charlot - That 10-incher could have been the first LP I shared way back when.
The cover on that 10-incher does not look familiar but we might have had a cheap knock-off mambo album.
Anyhow I love this music and muchas gracias.
Excellent. Thank you so much.
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