Ramiro RodriguezSon Bayo accordionistshouted into the microphone: We started at the pulga and now were here! The crowd erupted. He adjusted his red Hohner accordion to lead his band into a blistering rendition of Andres Landeros La Pava Congona.

Here was the Contemporary Arts Museum of Houston: the Bayou Citys preeminent modern arts museum which invited the group to perform their barrio cumbia inside their hallowed spaces. When I first met them, formerly as Reyno Sabanero, they had in fact originated within Houstons pulga circuita network of Mexican flea markets where cumbia, the peoples music of Latinoamrica, has long lived and thrived. I later hired them to perform at a Colombian Independence Day celebration I produced, where, along with two friends and deejaysMiles Ake of San Francisco and Felipe Galvn of Houstonwe spun cumbia on wax before the band stormed the stage with hand drums and accordions. A group of Colombians in the crowd asked what part of Colombia they came from. Nah pues, somos de Greenspoint, Rodriguez quipped: the Northside neighborhood where they proudly hailed.

Led by Rodriguez and Juan Torres, Reyno Sabanero morphed into Son Bayo: an update on their roots sound with a nod to their H-town pride. Few cumbiamberos cite Andres Landero and DJ Screw as inspirations. But then again, Landero and Screwicons of the pop underground, the latter a patron saint in Houstons signature chopped and screwed soundshare more in common

than the disparate genres might suggest. Soy Landeristo, 100 percent, Rodriguez affirmed. His style descends from Andres Landero: the San Jacinto-born squeezebox renegade whose prolific 1960s-1980s recordings for mythical Colombian labels, from Fuentes to Tropical, define the sabanera tradition. As sophomores, Rodriguez and Torres, whose exposure to tropical music stemmed from early years in Monterreya cumbia capital with deep cultural ties to Houstonknew in their foremost band ambitions theyd pivot from synth-heavy Tejano cumbia around them to produce something as Colombiano roots as possible. Friends from Monterrey brought sonidero mixtapes. On YouTube, they streamed Soundway Records impressive anthology, The Original Sound of Cumbia, learning of faraway accordion kingpins from Anibal Velsquez to Aniceto Molina. Son Bayohand-making giros in high school, disciples of originatorsis less a rehash of the Andean past as a new sabanera variant where la costa collides into the swampy concrete jungles of Screwstonia.

On a recent Austin trip, we linked with Adrian Quesada at his Electric Deluxe studio. The band laid their cumbia power to tape in a full-day session only briefly interspersed with smoke breaks and improvised rearrangements. Once Names You Can Trust put the finishing touches on the sound and package, Son Bayous initial ascent was complete in the form of this debut vinyl offeringa fitting introduction to a band carrying their cumbia roots from the pulgas to the world.