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I've moderated plenty of discussions in my day, but here the roles were reversed, and I was the "expert". I generally loathe being considered an expert at anything, because for me the joy comes from something that I don't yet know but might discover tomorrow. I recently did some work under my marketing persona of Home Base Arts for Puerto Rican drummer Henry Cole, and as he told me about his creative process and the history and heritage that feed it, I was blown away as the cultural connections between past, present and possibly future were revealed.
Nonetheless, here I was in the role of expert, with people depending on me for insight on the music they were about to hear. And I gotta admit, having several people come up to me afterward to thank me or even solicit my opinion (What do I think about Rubén Gonzales?) was a blast.
I think it is my sociology training that has led to my curiosity (or is it the other way around?). When I hear music that I like, I tend to become a bit obsessed and need to immediately start looking into what it is and where it came from and what forces shaped it. I told as much to someone after the presentation last night, that I first heard Latin music in high school in the form of Santana, then heard my first pure salsa record a short time after graduating from college (El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico) and I've been finding out everything I can about Afro Latin music ever since.
This blog, too, comes out of my sociology training. The concept of community and the cultural unfolding and transformation that results from migration are my two overarching themes, but I'm pretty sure I came to that from music, not the other way around.
Anyway... I went through the process of writing 1,100+ words on Cuba and Chucho and Gonzalo, and I even learned a thing or two while doing that. If you're still reading, then maybe I've got you for the next 1,100 words, too.
Enjoy.
Tonight you will hear two Cuban piano masters engaging in a dialog. The music that they will be playing emerges out of a tradition that goes back several centuries or more, and it contains both folkloric and classical elements. In the end, though, it is uniquely Cuban.
To trace the roots of the music that you will hear tonight,
you have to go back nearly 3000 years, to when the Phoenicians, a Semitic people
with origins in the Middle East, established a trading post in what would
become the bustling port city of Cadiz on Spain’s southwest coast. Before Christopher
Columbus set off on his expedition in 1492, the Iberian Peninsula was a
collection of smaller kingdoms with distinct traditions, languages and customs.
The southern area of Andalucia was ruled by the Moors, who were Muslims from North Africa
and the Middle East. When you hear flamenco music, you are hearing a direct
link to Arabic melodies and rhythms. Meanwhile, the northern and central areas were more
connected to the rest of Europe, and their customs and culture followed suit.
By the time the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria departed that same port of Cadiz, the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile were united and these two cultures were blended. Together, this new superpower exerted greater control over the rest of Iberia. Over the next century and a half, the “New World” colonies were established, bringing untold wealth back to Europe in the form of such newly discovered, and instantly fashionable, products like coffee, chocolate, tobacco and spices. The labor engine that facilitated that wealth was the Atlantic slave trade, which brought millions of Africans to the Americas. The Caribbean port through which much of this movement of people and goods passed through was Havana, Cuba. When you listen to Cuban music, then, you are listening to a mixture of European structure, Middle Eastern harmonics and African rhythms.
By the time the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria departed that same port of Cadiz, the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile were united and these two cultures were blended. Together, this new superpower exerted greater control over the rest of Iberia. Over the next century and a half, the “New World” colonies were established, bringing untold wealth back to Europe in the form of such newly discovered, and instantly fashionable, products like coffee, chocolate, tobacco and spices. The labor engine that facilitated that wealth was the Atlantic slave trade, which brought millions of Africans to the Americas. The Caribbean port through which much of this movement of people and goods passed through was Havana, Cuba. When you listen to Cuban music, then, you are listening to a mixture of European structure, Middle Eastern harmonics and African rhythms.
A distinct Cuban style of music, and especially piano
playing, emerged out of European classical music in the late nineteenth and
early twentieth century. In Cuba, the French contradanse, or ‘country dance’,
evolved into the contradanza as syncopations of African origin were blended into it. This musical style further evolved into the danzón by the late 19th century. Perhaps the most famous composer and pianist
of this classical style is the orchestra leader Ernesto Lecuona, who wrote the
classic tune Siboney, among many others. Smaller danzón ensembles like Orquesta
Aragon began including bongos and other drums, blending them with violins and
flutes to create a sound known as charanga.
By the 1930s, North American jazz was flavoring the stew
along with a stronger emphasis on what were now distinctly Afro-Cuban rhythms,
and you hear the beginnings of the mambo and the cha-cha. The Afro-Cuban conga and
bongo drums, whose rhythms were up to this point merely hinted at, were now
front and center, along with horn arrangements borrowed from jazz. There were a
handful of innovators who led the way here. Bassist Cachao and pianist Bebo
Valdés were primary among them.
When the descarga scene, marked by lengthy improvisational
jam sessions, emerged in the 1950s, Bebo and Cachao were often leading the
sessions. At the same time, African-American jazz musicians like Dizzy
Gillespie were taking note of what was going on and started experimenting with
Cuban rhythms, giving rise to what would be known as Latin jazz. When you hear
a salsa or Latin jazz band really stretch out and cook, you are hearing a
descendant of those descargas.
Bebo Valdés’ son Chucho emerged in the 1970s as a founding
member of the groundbreaking group Irakere, arguably one of the best and most
influential bands to emerge from post-revolution Cuba. The ensemble,
which also included trumpeter Arturo Sandoval and saxophonist Paquito D’Rivera,
might very well be called Afro-Futurist today in the way that they combined
deeply spiritual Afro-Cuban rhythms to forward thinking jazz and electric rock
band energy. When I say “deeply spiritual”, I’m referring to the role of the
drum itself, because before it appeared in popular music, its function was
strictly a sacred one in the rites of the Afro-Cuban santaría religion that
derived from the spiritual concepts and practices of
the West African Yoruba people.
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Meanwhile, another pianist from a musical family, Gonzalo
Rubalcaba, was growing up listening to Valdés and Irakere. In the 1980s, he
formed Grupo Proyecto, one of several young bands inspired by the pioneering
Irakere. By the end of the decade, Rubalcaba also turned to acoustic piano and
was soon part of a trio that included American jazz giants Charlie Haden and
Paul Motian, and made his international debut in 1991 with the album Discovery:
Live in Montreaux. That album was put out in the U.S. by the legendary jazz
label Blue Note, who also released Chucho Valdés’ U.S. debut Solo Piano the
same year.
Both pianists went on to stellar jazz careers that
nonetheless have the heartbeat of Cuba at their center, regardless of whether
they are playing solo, small ensemble or big band dates. Both have proved adept
at the two-piano format. Over the last three-plus decades, Chucho Valdés has
released over 30 albums, including his 2015 “Tribute to Irakere” with his group
the Afro-Cuban Jazz Messengers, which he performed live here at Symphony
Center. Rubalcaba has been similarly prolific, releasing nearly 30 albums since
then, and he too, has recently been at Symphony Center, performing solo in
2012.
Because of the nature of tonight’s concert, I need to make
special mention of Chucho’s 1998 duet album with his father Bebo Valdés.
Entitled Juntos para Siempre, the album is a gorgeous masterpiece that stands
as a testament to what can happen when you get two Cuban pianists in a room
together.
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Instead, you’ll hear two musicians with a historic
relationship to the Cuban piano tradition engaged in open-ended, respectful
conversation. You’ll hear two friends whose mutual admiration for each other
and the tradition they represent weave everything together until ultimately
they almost speak as one.
And lest you think this will be some laid back recital, be
assured that there will also be sonic fireworks from these master musicians. Their
hearts, after all, beat to the rhythm of Cuba.
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Chucho & Gonzalo: Masters at Work, Symphony Center, 2/23/18 |