Laru Beya

The result is an album that veers between lilting, languid songs like the title track, and sudden bursts of energy and anger, as on Yurumei, a lament about the horrors of the slavery days in which fuzz guitar is mixed with Garifuna percussion, Latin riffs and sturdy vocal work from the Garifuna women's chorus. This promises to be one of the albums of the year.

Listen to this album three or four times in quick succession and you'll hear something different each time; it's difficult to imagine growing tired of it.

In lesser hands, such 'fusion' elements could have fallen flat, but Aurelio's obvious talent, and Duran's sterling musical arrangements, instead yield an impressive album that simply sounds better which each new listening.

It successfully establishes an effective common ground between the musical traditions of Africa and the Caribbean. It's also a sweet, appealing and vibrant set delivered with a satisfying combination of energy and sensitivity.

Martinez may not be able to right the wrongs of the past, but he does Palacio's legacy proud on Laru Beya. And by bringing this music to a world stage, he may also help secure his people's cultural future.

Listeners will probably compare Laru Beya to Watina--the croon and swing of punta and parada are back-but the Senegalese connection helps make this album into something on its own terms, more layered, a little less raw.