From Andrea Echeverri’s radiant 2005 solo debut, to the second effort by the genre-bending Spinettango in May of this year, the L.A.-based label Nacional Records has released dozens of fascinating albums.
Though not afraid to work with Latin alternative heavyweights like Los Fabulosos Cadillacs — or even the non-Latin Talking Heads side quest, Tom Tom Club — the imprint is also known for giving its undivided attention to artists with more modest followings. Highlights include Thievery Corporation chanteuse Natalia Clavier, Mexican dream-pop quartet Hello Seahorse!, downtempo maestro Federico Aubele and Paris-based Cuban singer La Dame Blanche.
Curating a selection of key albums from the label’s treasure trove wasn’t easy, but these 10 are absolutely essential.
Nortec Collective, “Tijuana Sessions Vol. 3” (2005)
When Nortec Collective emerged from Tijuana in 2001 with the oceanic splendor of “Polaris,” the combination of deconstructed norteño snippets and exuberant electronic beats was downright visionary, championing the 21st century in Latin as a stylistic playground where anything was possible. Nortec was a true collective, a conceptual symposium of like-minded artists, and “Tijuana Sessions Vol. 3” reflected Nacional’s cosmopolitan glee. From the indie vibe of “Tijuana Makes Me Happy” to the jazzy elegance of “Olvídela Compa,” Nortec’s second album found the band switching gears and focusing on crafting actual songs.
The Pinker Tones, “The Million Colour Revolution” (2006)
“What are the basic colors?” a stentorial male voice ponders during the intro of the Pinker Tones’ defining masterpiece. In the 15 tracks that follow, the Barcelona-born duo of Mister Furia and Professor Manso proceed to explore a jungle of shades and tints — from the falsetto funk of “Welcome to TMCR” and the gossamer lounge of the bossa-inflected “Beyond Nostalgia,” to the Beastie Boys-like verve of “Karma Hunters.” Electronica delivered the keys to stylistic freedom, and every single pun on this playful sonic cruise is steeped in decades of music geekdom.
Mexican Institute of Sound, “Méjico Máxico” (2006)
The conceptual flair of MIS was a press agent’s dream: a record label executive moonlights as electronica wunderkind. Soon enough, the songs became so powerful that they allowed Camilo Lara to leave A&R behind and become a full-time musician. His debut album encapsulates his playful instincts, most prominent in the futuristic nostalgia of “Mirando a las Muchachas,” as well as an electro reconstruction of the Latin doop-wop classic by Los Hermanos Castro and the sloppy collage of “Dub-A El Tiempo Es Muy Largo.” The initial wave of Nacional releases read the writing on the wall: all you needed to make interesting sounds was a point of view.
Bomba Estéreo, “Blow Up” (2008)
Bomba Estéreo vocalist Li Saumet once described her voice to me as the loud cry of a street vendor peddling her wares — you either love it or you hate it. One of the most self-assured sophomore albums in Latin history, “Blow Up” definitely made a case for falling in love with her singing. Saumet sounds defiant and emancipated on “Fuego,” the club anthem that reintroduced Colombian electronica as a dangerous animal that feasts on champeta and acid cumbia. In later years the band, led by Saumet and Simón Mejía, explored other sounds, from tropi-pop to reggaetón. This was the progressive masterpiece that put them on the map.
Aterciopelados, “Río” (2008)
The second of two albums that the quintessential Colombian band recorded for Nacional, “Río” proved that the label was not only invested in promoting cutting-edge sounds — it was also willing to shepherd a return to form for veterans. “Río” is as luminous as the late ‘90s albums that established Aterciopelados’ acumen, with singer Andrea Echeverri in superb vocal form and the duo’s songwriting showcasing a sparser approach. Focusing on mysticism — one of the band’s favorite topics — “Día Paranormal” is one of the most devastatingly beautiful Latin cuts of the 2000s.
Ana Tijoux, “1977” (2009)
All things considered, Latin hip-hop was still in a relative state of infancy when Nacional dropped the second album by French Chilean rapper Ana Tijoux in the U.S. The cinematic title track became an instant anthem, later featured in the hit American television show “Breaking Bad.” An autobiographical tour de force, it introduced the iron-willed Tijoux as a different kind of MC — blessed with an oblique, highly personal flow, a restless artist who had already experienced stardom as part of the politically tense Chilean collective Makiza. On tracks like “Crisis de un MC,” she incorporated acid-jazz vibes, the urgency of her voice sitting comfortably on top of a densely textured track. Her Nacional follow-up, 2011’s “La Bala,” was just as good.
La Vida Bohème, “Nuestra” (2010)
The burst of barely unshackled energy becomes palpable the moment opening track “Radio Capital” gallops forward with its audacious blend of dance-punk and staccato tropical rock. Hailing from Caracas and led by singer-songwriter Henry D’Arthenay, La Vida made it patently clear that the blaze of alternative rock had spread to every corner of Latin America — and that the insane propulsion of tracks such as “El Zar” and “Calle Barcelona” was impossible to ignore. Three years later, the band’s sophomore effort, “Será” — also on Nacional — won a Latin Grammy for Best Rock Album.
ChocQuibTown, “Oro” (2010)
When the members of Colombian trio Chocquibtown released “Oro,” a stunning second album, they made sure to sum up their cultural ethos on the exhilarating opener “De Donde Vengo Yo:” national pride, a humorous look at daily life in the underbelly of Latin America, and a gorgeous fusion of hip-hop with funk, reggae and the folk of the Colombian Pacific. The niece of Grupo Niche founder Jairo Varela, rapper Goyo was the bona fide star of the outfit, and it was only a matter of time before she jumped ship. After “Oro,” the band signed with Sony and delved into reggaetón. They never sounded as inspired as they do on this Nacional gem.
Los Amigos Invisibles, “Repeat After Me” (2013)
The classic second album by Los Amigos Invisibles, 1998’s “The New Sound of the Venezuelan Gozadera” established the Caracas sextet as the kind of party band that found deep emotional truths in a mosaic of bossa nova and funk, disco and dance-till-dawn tropical beats. But because their songs celebrated the pleasures of the flesh so persistently, they risked sounding vacuous. By the time they signed with Nacional — and before suffering the fatal loss of guitarist José Luis Pardo — Los Amigos were ready to embrace maturity, and “Repeat After Me” is an object of beauty; arguably, their last great record. There’s a delicious surgical precision to the roboticized nu-disco groove of “Robot Love” — for years, a killer concert opener. On “La Que Me Gusta,” singer Julio Briceño recreates the innocence of ‘60s Latin teen pop, whistled intro and all.
Él Mató a un Policía Motorizado, “La Síntesis O’Konor” (2017)
If Nacional wanted to prove that it was still a major contender among indie labels, it couldn’t have designed a better masterstroke than to release the most transcendent album of the past decade in Argentine rock.
Él Mató a un Policía Motorizado sprouted from the provincial city of La Plata armed with a wicked sense of humor, a rare gift for melodic tenderness, and the stamina to honor and reinvent the existential tenets of guitar-based alt-rock. From the opening track “El Tesoro” — so lovely, it sounds like it landed from another galaxy — the voice of lead singer Santiago Motorizado sounds deep and committed, while the swirling sadness of “La Noche Eterna” promises to heal even the most broken of souls. Here, the label reiterated that it was looking not for a specific sound, but for a moment of truth.
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