José Asunción Flores

If you listen to a guarania and feel that Paraguayan music breathes through its notes, you are probably facing a creation by José Asunción Flores. This musician did not just invent a genre; he gave voice to an identity: tempos that drag like the wind in the Chaco, melodies that intertwine with the lyrics, and a sound that smells of damp earth and stories told under the moon. Flores did not start from scratch; he took the rhythms that already existed in his native Asunción — such as the Mba'érepa reikuaase that echoed in fairs and markets — and stretched them until he created something new. It was not a sudden change, but years of work: by 1924, he was already experimenting with structures, testing how an accent here or a silence there could transform a traditional song into something deeper, more personal. That year marked the beginning of what would later be called guarania, a style that sought neither speed nor virtuosity, but restrained emotion and a rhythm that beats like a tired heart.

The leap from experimental to recognized came quickly. In January 1925, he premiered Jejui at the Hotel Cosmos — now the Asunción Palace Hotel — and although the audience did not know they were witnessing the birth of a genre, something in those notes touched them. The following year, in 1926, two of his works were performed at the Teatro Nacional: Arribeño resay — with lyrics by Rigoberto Fontao Meza — and Ñasaindýpe, with verses by Félix Fernández. The response was good, but something was missing: poetry. That is when Manuel Ortiz Guerrero came in, a poet who understood that guarania was not just music, but words that dragged like Paraguay in memory. Together, they built a key repertoire: India, Kerasy, Panambi vera, among others. Each was a piece of their country, but also a technical challenge: how to make a trombone — the instrument he mastered since his time in the Police Band — sound like a human voice.