A mommy-to-be rediscovers Andrea Echeverrí

There is something bumping around in La Cumbiambera’s belly, and it’s not New Years tamales. When I discovered I was pregnant a couple of months ago, I decided to whip out Andrea Echeverri’s self-titled 2005 solo album, which she dedicated to her daughter Milagros. I purchased this album new when it first came out and liked it, but now my appreciation of the album is growing right along with my waistline.

Lyrically, this album offers a refreshing alternative to the tortured songs about unrequited love that saturate most popular music. The songs are all about fulfillment, the type of fulfillment that only a profound love—such as that of parent to child—can provide. Apparently, the album was also inspired by Echeverri’s amorous relationship with her partner, but in many songs the line between amorous and filial love is blurred. This may sound creepy; however, the sexuality expressed in Echeverrí’s lyrics is nothing more than a celebration of body and soul, of body as a celebration of soul, whether that soul is manifested through a mature love for a partner or a spontaneous love for a child. Here the female body is not a sexual object but instead a source of power, knowledge, and inspiration.

Musically, the album is a treat. It is easy to listen to and features the folk-pop sounds characteristic of Echeverrí without being sappy. One of my favorite tracks is Lactochampeta, which is a satire of the sexually explicit Columbian musical genre champeta, and as you can guess, the song is about breastfeeding. The explicit lyrics (“chúpatela tetita, tómatela lechita, así, así, durito, y con ritmo”) are set to an infectiously rhythmic tune that mimics the actual rhythms of a breastfeeding baby (sucksucksuck. breath. sucksucksucksuck. breath.) Other favorites are those with audibly latinoamericano influences such as “A Eme O” (see video), a folkbachata of sorts, and “Imán” which listens like a son jalisence with a spirit appropriate for a pre-school sing-a-long.

There are also a couple of blusesy tracks like this one:


“Ya yo no” – Andrea Echeverrí

In short, the album is a collection of lullabies for grown-ups, sans the sleepy effect. Echeverrí’s songs relax and uplift. They are a reminder of the best possibilities of love. They celebrate life and femininity is ways that are at once tender and empowering. And, in this historical moment in which so many of the world’s mothers are separated from their children or are unable to provide for them due to crimes of the state, this album infuses La Cumbaimbera with a sense of purpose, and of course, makes me shed a tear.