To shift records, world-music artists sell exotic back stories

Searching for meaning

One of the newest bands to benefit from that added power is Andy Palacio and the Garifuna Collective, whose musical roots stretch back to 1635, when two West African slave ships crashed off the coast of the Caribbean. Abandoned by their would-be masters, the survivors established communities called Garifuna in parts of what are today Belize, Honduras, and Guatemala, blending language and custom with local Carib culture.

"People interested in world music are looking for that kind of meaning," says Mr. Edgar, on whose label the Collective appears. "They want to be connecting with other cultures, enjoying music that has more spirit and soul to it than just another rock band trying to create hits."

Sometimes deepening that connection takes only a few words. For instance, Cape Verdian singer Césaria Évora, who performs without shoes, is known simply as "the barefoot diva." At other times, that connection is so all-encompassing that it frames foreign music for years. The granddaddy of this scenario is the Buena Vista Social Club, whose story blends the poverty of communist Cuba with characters worthy of Greek tragedy.

The ensemble was brought together by guitar legend Ry Cooder, who had gone to Cuba to record his own album. Instead, he produced the band's self-titled album, which went on to sell 8 million copies and inspire a companion Hollywood film. That success ripened the world-music market for other Cuban artists who played in a similar style. It also handed the market its best sales handle yet: calling a band "the Buena Vista Social Club of (insert country here)."

For all their success opening world markets to Cuban music, the group's stardom ironically shut out younger Cuban players, who were frustrated that fresher styles were overlooked. The band members were cast as the elder statesmen of their country's musical tradition – one that sounded little like what one would hear walking in the streets of modern Havana. They appealed to outsiders as "fantastic veteran old-timers with lined faces singing fantastic old songs," says Simon Broughton, editor of "Songlines," a British world-music magazine.

Nostalgia for the 'Golden Age'

Such dissonance is commonplace in world music – a troublesome category whose best-known stars might sound the least like the roots music of their country. Not all sounds cross over – especially not those from nations whose rhythm and harmonies are unfamiliar, like China or Korea. Some make the leap only after being layered into the pulsing beats of house music, drawing in a younger crowd.

Yet while established world-music buffs are often characterized as cosmopolitan and curious, they may also be seeking something a little more sentimental, something that brings them closer to that greater meaning some see in world rhythms. "It was nostalgia – a nostalgia of lots of people who weren't there, of course – but for a golden age of music," says Mr. Broughton, referencing the Buena Vista Social Club, "when musicians really knew their craft, when they'd lived that music all their lives."

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