Big Earl Sellar wrote this review.
The Romany have long been the makers of the soundtrack of working life throughout Europe. Wherever they roam, they quickly establish themselves as entertainers of the first order, often mixing the popular music around them with their own age-old tradition. These three discs show the continuation of this unique skill among a most unique people.
Los Niños de Sara are of the Albanian tree. A sticker on their disc Gipsyolé described them as “Gipsy Kings meet Buena Vista Social Club,” which is a little too close to the mark: frankly “derivative of” may be a better statement. Not to knock the music; it’s a beautiful mix of Cuban rhythm and styles with a Baltic acoustic twang, but no new ground is broken here. So while you get sultry grooves like “Romance Anonimo,” it’s not like you haven’t heard it done dozens of times before. It’s almost all big band arrangements, very hip sounding music, targeted at the Latin market. Even when the group branches out in musical styles, such as with the Arabic feel of “Mazai Mazai,” one can’t help but wonder how calculated their motives are. All that said, it’s an impeccable disc: great playing, great grooves, wonderfully recorded and produced. Just not too original. If you can’t get 
enough of things with a Cuban twinge, Los Niños de Sara is a welcome addition. If you can, well, you could do much worse.
Jony Iliev falls into a similar, confounding category. Iliev mixes traditional Gypsy music with flourishes of Arabic, Indian, and French pop. There are many bands that follow this formula, but Iliev succeeds a little better than his contemporaries, largely due to the strength of his arrangements and of the band. Hailing from Bulgaria, the Balkan meld of European influences mixed with Arabic show up strongly on tracks like “17:50.” And Iliev has an interesting voice: frail, somewhat reedy and nasal, but he projects through the music quite well — as on “Nadire.” But his music isn’t as pure as that of some regional artists, nor as interesting in its diversity as others. The recording quality is a tad odd, as well; fairly well produced, but the mix is all over the place, especially the bass. But the 
playing’s hot, and the tunes inspire dancing. Not earth shattering, but a pretty good disc overall.
Now, Besh o droM ups the stakes considerably. Hailing from Hungary, this group takes the tradition and moshes it into the modern era. Fast playing and tight arrangements make Can’t Make Me! the standout here. Sounding much more like they create the party than hunt one down, Besh o droM mixes a heavy sense of humour in with the music, creating what I often refer to as “smile music.” Listen to the string workout on “Csángó Menyhárt,” which evokes both Django Reinhardt and the Skatellites; played at warp speed and so offhandedly, it recalls David Lindley at his best. Even when the tempo drops, as on “Afghan,” there is a playfulness in the arrangements. This would be a hot band to see live! Wonderfully recorded, and with a cool packaging scheme (including a shot of the group wearing matching Superman t-shirts!), this set is worth it just for the chipmunk vocals on the Balkan/ska madness of “Pergetö!”
It’s nice to see these sorts of regional artists getting a wider audience internationally. And while neither Los Niños de Sara nor Jony Iliev rocks my world, Besh o droM certainly do. Any of these discs are worth checking out, but Can’t Make Me! gets the nod here. Great stuff, from a great folk.
(Intentcity Records, 2002)
(Asphalt Tango Records, 2002)
(Asphalt Tango Records, 2002)
