Polo Montanez, a.k.a. Fernando Borregos Linares, was poised to become a huge international roots music superstar when he was killed in a car crash last year near his home in Havana. He was mourned by his followers in Cuba and Colombia (his biggest market), who identified with Montanez’s earthy, raspy voice and songs of heartbreak and hard work. His life story only added to the myth: A coal miner, a peasant, he had only been allowed to work as a musician in an eco-touristic enclave in rural Pinar del Rio and simply couldn’t get a recording contract because his original repertoire sounded too anachronistic to a cultural bureaucracy promoting Buena Vista sound-alikes and bubble gum music. Then along came a French impresario and Montanez found his surprisingly poignant personal songs at the top of the charts. His second album, the posthumous “Guitarra Mia,” unfortunately steps a bit away from the source of Montanez’s intimate charms and even gives eerie portend to his death. There are songs about being on TV, about how his stardom is envied, about taking revenge on those who wish him ill. While musically it’s on the same wavelength — though nothing jumps out quite like “Guajiro Natural,” “Barco a la Deriva” or the other hits from the first CD — the lyrics this time are frequently petty and cliched, creating a creepy discomfort on listening. This untimely farewell disc sadly demonstrates that perhaps for Montanez, stardom was not such an easy or blissful fit.
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