his songs

In “Niágara en Bicicleta,” a depressing portrayal of public hospitals in the developing world, named for a Dominican phrase indicating a situation as hopelessly difficult as traversing Niagara Falls on a bicycle. The narrator faints and is rushed to an emergency room, where the receptionist listens to the lottery numbers, a nurse talks to him in language usually reserved for dogs, and there’s no electric power for an EKG. The chorus is classic Guerra: where irresistibly danceable lyrics mesh reality with fantasy.
Don’t tell me that the doctors left.
Don’t tell me you don’t have anesthesia.
Don’t tell me someone’s drunk the alcohol
And sewn the thread for stitches into a tablecloth.
Don’t tell me the forceps are lost,
That the stethoscope is off partying,
That The x-ray machine has burnt out
And the serum has been used to sweeten the coffee.