Interview by: Thomas Peña

"First came the transition from trombonist to flutist. Then came the transition to Latin jazz. For Mark Weinstein, a confluence of worlds has become modus operandi." Woodrow Wilkins, All About Jazz (www.allaboutjazz.com).

TP: Congratulations on yet another splendid recording. By all accounts "Timbasa" has been well received.

MW: Yes, it has.

TP: How did the recording come about?

MW: When I made "Algo Mas" I knew that I was "locked" into a folkloric thing, so I asked (drummer/educator) Bobby Sanabria to recommend a drummer and he suggested that I contact Pedrito Martinez. When I decided to move into more mainstream Latin Jazz I combined Pedrito with (pianist) Mark Levine, (bassist) Santi DeBriano and (drummer) Mauricio Herrera.

TP: On "Con Alma" …

MW: Right. The reason I am focusing on Pedrito is that "Timbasa" is as much his project as it is mine. He co-produced the recording and set things up in response to a funny challenge. I ran into him somewhere and he asked me when we were going to collaborate on another project. Sort of goofing on him I said, "Find me a piano player and a bass player who are as good as you and bring a couple of drummers." I had no idea what he was going to deal me! The thing about Pedrito is that he is in a class all by himself. He has the "chops" but his "head" is enormous!

TP: What did Pedrito "deal you?"

MW: Well, I went into the studio with a lot of confidence in Pedrito but not much else. The only thing I was sure of was that the he was bringing in Cuban musicians who are steeped in jazz. I asked Pedrito to bring some material and I thumbed through the book that I use when I do gigs, which represents the history of Latin Jazz. I had all the old war horses (tunes), "Watermelon Man," "Caravan" and "Milestones," which thanks to Larry Harlow, is the first Latin jazz tune I ever played! I played with Larry as a sideman (trombonist) in the Catskills. At the time he had a quintet and he realized right away that "Milestones" was a natural with a Latin beat. As a goof I also included a tune that I wrote for my infamous "Cuban Roots" album titled "Just Another Guajira."

Pedrito brought drummers, Mauricio Herrera and Ogduardo Diaz. Then there was this kid, a wild man with his hair sticking up in a million different directions, running around the studio. When he and I first met I was in the recording booth and I had all of my flutes on a stand. I remember being concerned that he was going to knock them down, so I said to him, "Hey man, be careful with the flutes!" and he replied, "I might be hyper, but I am a musician." Then he went into the piano booth and started playing some serious Chopin!

TP: What is his name?

MW: Axel Oscar Lougart. He’s 23 or 24 years old and he represents a generation of conservatory trained Cuban musicians who have spent the same amount of time studying classical music, jazz and folkloric music. This is the phenomenon of the Cuban education system that we are getting as they use the U.S. as their launching pad.

Speaking of another Cuban phenomenon, I am in the midst of making a recording with pianist, Aruan Ortiz, which is another funny story. Aruan sent out an e mail blast seeking work and his resume was a who‘s who of prestigious conservatories. I called him up and spoke to him about a Charanga album that I had originally intended for pianist, Omar Sosa. Aruan jumped at the chance and immediately composed four danzones and a bolero, two of which are modern, yet reminiscent of the music of Arcaño y Sus Maravillas and Israel "Cachao" Lopez. Aruan is another example of the amazing young musicians who are coming out of Cuba.

But I digress. There was another guy in the studio standing quietly in a corner who turned out to be bassist Panagiotis Andreou, who happens to be Greek. As I was watching the musicians interact, I noticed something that I haven’t seen since trombonist, Barry Rogers was on the scene. The high degree of respect that he commanded from the Cuban musicians. The thing about Panagiotis is that he is a trained classical guitar player and plays a six string bass that goes down to the notes that only whales can hear. When he plays fast his fingers barely move. He plays with such comfort and the way he lays in the tumbao … It’s like Pedrito and all those young Cuban cats. They have so much confidence in each other that nobody has to lay things out. Everybody can play with whatever subtlety and nuance they choose.

TP: Given Barry’s legacy, that’s saying a lot. How did things go in the studio?

MW: We recorded and worked out all of the arrangements in the studio, with the exception of the complicated drum breaks, which Pedrito sang to the drummers. There are a couple of amazing things about the way the musicians played and interacted with one another. The most obvious being the complex percussion breaks. If you listen to the tune, "Timbasa," you will notice that the Clave is being played on the high hat while the drums are playing the break, but there is also a clave popping in and out! What Pedrito is doing on the clave and in between the clave is so perfect that it’s amazing.

TP: Given the generation gap between you and the other members of the band, did you feel out of your element?

MW: Performing with these guys was like running with the bulls in Pamplona! I had to play very fast in order to stay out of their way, but no matter what I chose to do, they were right there with me. It’s such a blessing to play with such great musicians.

TP: "Timbasa" has received very favorable reviews and a significant amount of airplay.

MW: I recently had a conversation with pianist, Mark Levine about his album, "Off and On – The Music of Moacir Santos." When I asked him how his recording was doing he said, "Great reviews, great radio play, no sales!" I wrote him back and said, "Hey man, sounds like you are talking about my record!" The recording is holding steadily and everybody who responded to me personally has said very positive things. Perhaps one of the highest praises I received was from (percussionist) Bobby Matos, who said it was "Fresh." Not bad for a 70 year old musician!

(For more on Mark Levine, visit: http://www.marklevine.com/recordings.html)

TP: Not bad at all!

MW: There is no standard for me in my playing other than the absolute highest.

TP: One of the things that I have always admired you is the fact that you are absolutely fearless.

MW: My intention is to play the best music that I can possibly play. I have confidence in the fact that I can go into any rhythmic situation and feel comfortable. That’s something I learned from playing with Eddie Palmieri‘s band. It was the most swinging band in the world and I had to know where the ONE was at all times. Sometimes I would get lost, but I would always find my way back – not by counting – but by dancing! Because at the end of the day it’s dance music. That’s my attitude toward the music of the African Diaspora. I just want sit on top of that rhythm and play free.

TP: For those readers who may not be aware of your "other life" you were a trombonist and a member of the original La Perfecta, the hippest and most swinging Latin band to ever grace a stage.

You already mentioned a few of your future projects. Is there anything else that you are working on that we should know about?

MW: I recently ran into Jochen Becker, the President of Zoho Records and he said to me, "If you want to get nominated for a Grammy you need to do a Tango album. I have just the guy for you." The "guy" turned out to be none other than (bassist) Pablo Aslan. So I called Pablo and he agreed to write five tangos for me. After listening to the material, I thought to myself, wow, this is really interesting stuff but does it really need a flute player? I did the five tangos and tried to figure out, what goes with Tango? The answer I came up with was, (Cuban) danzones. After doing half an album of danzones I realized the Tangos and the danzones are beautiful, however, I am not so sure how well they work acoustically, or as part of an album. In the meantime, Aruan has been pushing me to finish the Charanga album. So I said, OK, but we have to do something contrasting, like Guaracha or Charanga, New York style … fast! … I want to cook! At which point Aruan asks me if I was familiar with the tune, "El Cumbanchero?" (Laughs). As it turns out, "El Cumbanchero" is the working title of the album, which is almost finished. I am still trying to decide what to do with the five Tangos. They are very traditional, which is a problem because I play "free" over very traditional material.

TP No doubt you will figure it out. Uncharted waters are your cup of tea.

MW: That’s true, but I didn’t have the comfort and familiarity with Argentinean music. Anyway, I think for the other five tunes I might want to put together a quartet and get together with some Argentinean jazzers. Also, I want to do another straight-ahead jazz album, because at the end of the day I am a jazz musician. I have always felt entitled to play anybody else’s music the way I saw fit, however, I always did it with complete respect for the music. That is what I have to offer as a jazz musician. I don’t play traditional music, I play jazz with traditional music. Now I can add the traditional music of modern Cuba to my repertoire (Laughs).

TP: You have always been ahead of the curve; you put your money where your mouth is and your passion for the music has never wavered. Moreover, your body of work as a trombonist, flutist and leader is impressive. That’s a legacy to be proud of.

MW: I want a legacy. I want to make a contribution. I want people to know that Mark Weinstein tried to play music.

TP: You have certainly succeeded in doing that. And let’s not forget the countless upstarts you have collaborated with and inspired along the way.

MW: I almost 70 years old and I feel like I am at the top of my game.

TP: Once again, congratulations. Please give my best regards to your co-conspirators and Randy Klein of Jazzheads Records. I look forward to seeing the band perform in a live setting.

MW: Thank you Tomas, I appreciate your support.

VISIT MARK WEINSTEIN’S OFFICIAL WEBSITE: http://jazzfluteweinstein.com/

This memorable set begins with “It’s Only Seven,” a song featuring a complex rhythmic structure that sets the pulse racing with a 7/4 beat. Its melody is alluring and, with bassist Roberto Occhipinti and drummer Mark Kelso in fine form, the song proves to be a true kicker. Occhipinti is sensational as he navigates through the fine rhythms with some propulsive and yet nuanced melodic playing. “Conversation with a Lunatic,” a puckish song vividly suggests a jitterbug-like encounter. Here too, Durán creates whorls of sound with contrapuntal figures that turn this track into one that burns with a bright blue flame. Next, Hilario Durán probes a seemingly familiar melody with refreshing and vigorous new ideas: “Havana City,” is a track filled with a sense of languidness that captures the lilting swagger of the rhythms of that city. The song is long and meandering and meditative. The feeling of emotional longing is heightened by the short opening featuring delicate strings, fluttering percussion and aching vocals atop resonant batás by the incomparable Joaquín Hidalgo. Hilario Durán’s playing here is soft and luscious as it appears to caress an almost feminine persona of Havana. The timely accented splashes of Mark Kelso and Roberto Occhipinti’s remarkable bass playing provide a superb rhythmic backdrop that keeps the song swaying and sashaying throughout.

“For Emiliano,” is an emotional tribute to Durán’s compatriot, pianist, Emiliano Salvador. This burgeoning arrangement has a distinct underpinning of sadness. The elegiac mood has some very thoughtful expansive piano playing and compelling bass work by Occhipinti as they seem to recall the spirit of Emiliano Salvador in a gentle wake full of clave. Kelso enjoys an explosive break here, while Durán comps effortlessly and later takes the song home. The album continues to surprise with “Tango Moruno,” which—as the title suggests—is a proverbial doffing of the hat to a form of music that came from nearby Argentina. Jamey Haddad excels as he manipulates the rhythm with remarkable percussive colorations. “Danza Negra” is a deeper excavation of the African side of Hilario Durán’s music and even though nothing is sung there is a bright mélange of danzón and earthy tones of the conjuring up of Yoruba spirituality as it fades with a flourish.

“Motion” is what the entire new experience of Hilario Durán’s music is all about. The musical roars from out of the starting blocks. Durán drives a labyrinthine rhythm in yet another complex figure of swing and clave. In his sensational and abrupt changes in rhythm Durán displays a new maturity of musicianship. He cajoles Roberto Occhipinti and Mark Kelso to reach deep into themselves to emerge with uniquely expressive ideas. The set ends with “Timba en Trampa,” a new dancing song that puts the proverbial sting of this delightful new record in its tail. This track is based on an angular 6/8 figure. The chopped rhythm—highlighted and enhanced by some excellent conga work by Luis Orbegoso offsets Durán’s flying fingers across the ivory and ebony. Here Durán also shows a fond affection for Thelonious Monk with his creative and architectural compositional style and displays complete mastery over every aspect of the musical process adorning this sublime, unforgettable album.

Tracks: It’s Only Seven; Conversation with a Lunatic; Havana City; For Emiliano; Danza Negra; Timba en Trampa.

Personnel: Hilario Durán: piano; Roberto Occhipinti: bass; Mark Kelso: drums; Joaquín Hidalgo: batá drums and vocal (3); Luis Orbegoso: congas (8); Jamey Haddad: percussion (5); The Pandemonium Strings (3).

Hilario Durán on the web: www.hilarioduran.com

Review written by: Raul da Gama

Feature written by: Chico Alvarez Peraza

Grammy winner Raphael Cruz is probably the best kept secret in Latin jazz. His latest recording, “Time Travel” is a must for any lover of fascinatin’ rhythms. But exactly where does his inspiration come from?

Latinjazznet.com is proud to present this insight into the man who literally stole the show and walked away with the 2005 Grammy for Best Latin Jazz Recording. I’m referring of course to "Bebop Timba", the highly creative CD that was (unfortunately) never heard or talked about again.

The question still remains: Why? Before I delve into this curious enigma, allow me to fast forward a minute to the present.

LOST IN SPACE

Long before the release of “Time Traveler”, his third recording as a leader, the buzz was already out about the project and about Raphael Cruz’ new group as well. “I’m really excited about it” he says.“There is just no way to label it. We are a tight ensemble that is really into the dynamics of the music, we use shadings and we are trying to get away from the strict syncopated emphasis on clave based rhythms. Mind you, the clave is always there, but in more subtle ways than usual. It creates a mood for the rest of the band to follow, but it doesn’t dominate that mood. As a soloist myself, I feel that the musician should be allowed more space to be heard, to stretch out without too much interference from or adherence to the rhythm section”.

Raphael has long been recognized by his fellow musicians as a gifted percussionist and bandleader, possessor of exquisite sensitivity and impeccable timing, a veteran who has shared both the stage and the recording studio with such legendary performers as Mongo Santamaría, Ray Barretto, George Benson, Paquito D’Rivera, Herbie Mann, McCoy Tyner, Bette Midler, Flora Purim and Chaka Khan. He performs on Cuban, Brazilian, African and exotic percussion instruments, as well as the traditional drum kit, and is fluent in all musical styles. And yet, a full and comprehensive awareness of his talents has been limited mostly to an inner circle of jazz and latin musicians, radio personalities, and a few perceptive listeners and critics.

Although Raphael is usually classed as a fusion artist, his real roots appear to lie in the Tata Güines tradition. This is not to say that he sounds like Tata, but rather that he shares many things in common with him. Like the legendary Cuban master, Raphael’s contribution to a particular tune pays careful attention to the inner dynamics of the composition, and like Tata, he approaches the conga drums in much the same manner as a jazz trap drummer does his drum set. Elaborating on his role as a drummer, he adds: “The most important thing for me is to feel comfortable with the tune and not have to fight with my instrument. The music invariably suffers when you fight your instrument. I tend to forget about my instrument as a showcase, often treating it like it’s not there, concentrating more on the music as a whole, rather than with my own part. I started to feel this way about music in general when I first heard Miles Davis’ controversial album ‘Bitches Brew’. It was like a revelation to me, and for the life of me I could not understand why so many critics had come down on him the way they did. I actually saw people walking out on one of his performances at the Village Gate. This guy was so far ahead of his time, I had never heard anything so beautiful, he seemed to be lost in space. Or rather, he was the master of his own space”.

SINGING A SONG AND TELLING A STORY

Raphael Cruz is first and foremost an accompanist who blends in with the overall sound of the group, stepping out only when it is called for. Although his touch is light and elegant, he can still swing with the best of ‘em. His solos are like songs, full of melodic-like phrases, and rarely does he simply go off on a tune, as often happens with lesser astute musicians who fill up space just for the sake of it. On the bandstand, he seems to merge with his instrument. He is in total command and the control which he asserts over the difficult drum patterns is astonishing. He is never flashy, but rather he tells a story, singing a song, if you will.

But Raphael can also cook, like a gourmet chef, with a quiet intensity, at a low flame – one that burns bright. Musically, he feeds off the soloists, often complementing them, never trying to upstage them in any way. His rhythmic sense is acute, and he knows how to keep the time lively by playing around the soloist. He can be like a metronome when he wants to, but he prefers to "play" with the rhythms, at times riffing "around" and "behind" the beat. His solos are often nostalgic voyages culled from the Afro-Cuban and Bop traditions, thoughtfully constructed, with much attention to what is going on around him. To his credit he has surrounded himself with a crew of equally adept musicians, such as Ariel de La Portilla, Enrique Henaine, Manuel Valera and Diego Lopez, who form the nucleus of his working unit. Collectively they conjure up feelings that are both refined and deep, hot and sensual. But then, what else should you expect from jazz musicians?

BREAKING WITH THE PAST, WHILE NEVER FORGETTING IT

Musically, Mr. Cruz is very much the non-conformist. As a first-class musician, he knows that conformism is little more than imitation, and that imitation is at best just part of the learning process. Only when the learning process is complete does the musician really begin to find a modem of expression that is truly his or hers. And that’s when the struggle really begins. A true artist cannot merely substitute himself for those who came before them. He or she must add to that tradition or traditions. Raphael has eloquently proven himself successful in adding his own link to that fascinatin’ chain of Caribbean rhythms. It is quite appropriate then, that he should hail from an island that has been turning out happy rhythms for centuries.

Raphael Cruz was born on May 27th, 1947, in the Dominican Republic, in the town of Villa Vasquez, located in the northeastern province of Monte Cristi, an area rich with rhythms and folklore. His parents were Spaniards who migrated from Cuba, another link in that cultural chain. They settled in Santiago de Los Caballeros. At a very early age, Raphael moved to the capital city of Santo Domingo, where he initiated his grade school education in the “Escuela Chile”. Drawn to music, he enrolled in that school’s marching band, initially playing the snare drum, then the bass drum and finally mastering the xylophone. From there he graduated to the “Colegio Don Bosco”, where he continued his musical studies. He played in that school’s marching band, studying both theory and solfeggio, acquiring the necessary reading skills and technique that were needed in order to become a classical musician. By the time he graduated Don Bosco he had also mastered orchestral percussion. These are percussion instruments used in orchestras which play mainly classical European music and related styles. Generally within such a curriculum, students are required to study all aspects of orchestral playing. Marimba, snare drum and timpani are the three most basic areas of study. Orchestral percussion usually does not include drum set studies. Although Raphael was quite proficient on all of these instruments, his interest in hand drums, and in particular with popular Latin American rhythms was becoming more and more evident. Soon, that inclination began taking him down a different road. “I didn’t exactly know where I was going at this time, but I knew that I wasn’t going to be a classical musician”.

SANTO DOMINGO: INFLUENCES, LEGENDS AND HEROES

The nineteen sixties ushered in the so-called “British Invasion” (Beatles, Rolling Stones, Dave Clark Five, Herman’s Hermits, etc), and Raphael submersed himself deep into the waters of popular American music, eventually forming his first group, which he called “Los X 6”. It turned out to be an invaluable learning experience for him, and he vividly recalled that the band was quite frightening. “We were composed mainly of aficionados, so we formulated a style that was greatly influenced by iconic American and British rock and pop artists like Jimi Hendrix, Cream and The Beach Boys. Even Chubby Checker and Bill Haley’s Comets were in the mix. We played at many social events, and we were even featured regularly on Dominican television, via ‘Teenager’s Matinee’, a show that aired every Sunday. Once the band finally got tight, we’d work on more tunes, until we had just about every rock & roll tune known to mankind down pat. We became the ‘house band’ for this very popular show, which ran consecutively for a number of years. But deep down inside, I knew there was more to it than just playing someone else’s material”.

By 1964 it was evident that in Santo Domingo a certain love affair between young people and rock & roll had developed. One has only to see archival footage of Johnny Ventura during this period to understand this phenomenon. He looked like a black Elvis Presley. The term "hipster" immediately comes to my mind. Although the hipster image originated after the "golden age of jazz", during the pre-bop 1940′s, there seemed to be no real relation to jazz during the sixties. It seems as if it had merely crossed over into the following decade. The tag itself was coined when the word "hip" arose to describe aficionados of the growing jazz scene. In the U.S. a "hipster" was often defined as a "character who likes hot jazz". Initially, hipsters were usually middle-class white youths seeking to emulate the lifestyle of the largely-black jazz musicians they followed. The word "cool" would take preference in decades to come. However, both in the rebellious Caribbean and in that urban monster known as Mexico City, it was a case of life imitating art. Raphael was quite aware of these images, as most young people were at the time, and it reflected not only in his music but in his appearance as well. The type of assimilation that he described to me was typical of most young musicians throughout the Caribbean basin. I myself experienced this while still a youth in Cuba. Rock was the thing.

And yet, it was Raphael’s exposure to the “typical” sound of Dominican music that shaped and later defined his musical expression, along with his awareness of the ever-popular Cuban dance forms, namely mambo, guajira, bembé and cha cha chá. Without these genres, there probably would have never have been anything resembling Latin jazz. They formed the basic foundation for most instrumental latin music of the time.

A fellow percussionist who was then making the same rounds as Raphael was drummer and timbalero Carmelo García. García was only one of many musicians who would leave their mark on the emerging music scene in Santo Domingo, influencing just about everyone who came in contact with him. Raphael recalls their special relationship. “Carmelo was one of the most solicited drummers of that era, having played principally with the bands of Rafael Solano and José Reyes. We soon became friends and Carmelo mentored me, introducing me to the rudiments of the music and teaching me about the rich folklore of the Caribbean".

García was a kind of latin hipster, although a traditionalist in many ways, and he passed on much of his knowledge to Raphael, including such things as Ortiz’ concept of transculturation. Because Dominican music has always been closely intertwined with that of its neighbor, Haiti, it is believed that the merengue (as a musical genre) originated there. For well over fifty years it has remained the official native dance of the Dominican Republic, having evolved from the French contredanse, which was an internationally popular form of music and dance during the late 18th century. Both secular and sacred religious music can be found all along the island, with drums and human voices being their principle interpreters. Salve is a call-and-response type of singing that uses güira, panderos, atabales and other African instruments. It is highly ceremonial and often used in pilgrimages or at parties dedicated to saints. Palo is also played at religious ceremonies and has its roots in the Congo region of central-west Africa. Palo shares much the same pantheon of deities/saints as the religious traditions of Cuba, Haiti, Brazil and parts of South America. The instruments played in a palo are the same as salves, only without the panderos. Salve is related to palo in that it is played in many of the same contexts, but with different instruments and utilizing diverse rhythm patterns. During his formative years, much of this music was alien to Raphael, but as he grew more influenced by popular music, he began to understand and appreciate the significance of the folkloric traditions.

It was also in Santo Domingo that Raphael was first exposed to many of the great Cuban artists, not only those who were still living in Cuba but also those who were now residing in the U.S. At home, his parents never ceased to listen to the great Cuban soneros and guaracheros, such as Arsenio Rodríguez, Trio Matamoros, Vicentico Valdés, Rolando La Serie and Beny Moré. And like most Dominican households, a recording by Duo Los Compadres was a standard fixture. “My parents were crazy about Cuban music, and I was fortunate to have heard such visiting artists as Mongo Santamaría, Los Muñequitos, La Lupe, Olga Guillot and Miguelito Valdés, among others. I was also able to hear Puerto Rican bands who visited regularly, such as Cortijo y su Combo, and later El Gran Combo, which came out of the Cortijo aggregation. It was Carmelo who got me into all that stuff”. Like all who really knew the man, Raphael considers García a genius. He still treasures the recordings Carmelo made with Mongo.

Through the miracle of radio, young Raphael was transplanted to near and far away lands, made fully aware that there were other cultures out there besides his own. Not only did he listen to Cuban radio, which was very influential at that time, but also to the local Dominican public radio stations which featured all forms of Caribbean music, as well as the music of Brasil, the U.S. and Latin America. Remembering those early years, he elaborates. “Like most of us who grew up in that era, I was literally ‘blown away’ and ‘turned on’ to the inspirational melodies of Antonio Jobim, Vinicius de Moraes and Joäo Gilberto. Equally moving for me was the exciting samba schools and the carnival ensembles, as well as the jazz tinged bossa nova of Stan Getz and other North American musicians. By way of the bossa nova, I started getting into traditional jazz, roughly at around the same time, and I even landed a gig with jazz pianist Jorge Taveras’ trio”.

With all these influences spinning around in his young head, it was inevitable that Raphael Cruz would venture into an experimental wall of sound, incorporating everything he heard into his own pop/rock ensemble. Logically, the next stop on his musical voyage would have to be the capital of jazz, Harlem. But as fate would have it, there was a slight detour he would have to make first.

ISLA DEL ENCANTO: LA NUEVA OLA

As he began developing a taste for sophisticated harmonies and intricate rhythms, Raphael decided to move to Puerto Rico, where he would live for ten years and where his musical consciousness would be further influenced by the African based rhythms of that sister island. While still living in the Dominican Republic, Raphael had hooked up with a couple of Puerto Rican musicians who needed a drummer for a local engagement in Santo Domingo. It was the start of something really big for him. “I formed part of a trio that featured musicians Orly Vazquez and Francisco Tirado. They were looking for someone who could play what was then referred to as ‘acid rock’. I returned with them to Puerto Rico, and shortly afterwards we landed a gig in nearby St. Thomas. The name of the place was “The Pirates Spot” and I remember that there were at least 16 rock groups from Puerto Rico playing there. Through our connection in St. Thomas we got an offer to travel to Mexico City, where we played in the famous ‘Red Zone’, a bohemian corner of aristocratic roots, something similar to New York’s Greenwich Village. The trio was called ‘Kaleidescope’. For the Mexico City gig we replaced Orly with Dominican guitarist Héctor Gutierrez, and then we went on to play in Veracruz and in other cities as well. We even recorded an album for the Orfeon label. This is crazy, but I just found out that the album we made in Mexico over forty years ago is being re-issued in Germany.”

After settling in Puerto Rico, Raphael really got into the tumbadoras, or conga drums as they are called in the U.S. His goal at the time was to become the consumate all-around percussionist, thereby assuring himself of a steady flow of work. He recalls: “During that period I was performing with Lucecita Benítez, Julio Angel, Danny Rivera and Alberto Carrión. These artists, for the most part were influenced by American rock music, although they each embraced (to a certain degree) the traditional Puerto Rican jíbaro and (to a lesser extent) the black music of the caseríos, adding to their oveall mix a more ‘tropicalized’ version of the nueva trova, a movement in Cuban music that emerged after the Cuban Revolution (around 1967-68), reflecting the consequent political and social changes there. It is related to the ‘nueva canción’ of Latin America, especially Puerto Rico and Venezuela. Some of the nueva trova musicians were also influenced by the rock and music of that time, so the connection with those groups I mentioned was only logical”.

Also worthy of mention would be the jazz tinged “feeling” movement which came out of Cuba around the same time. Ironically, while all this music was merging beautifully in Puerto Rico, latin New Yorkers were still flocking to dance halls, enamored with popular Cuban dance music, which they referred to as ‘latin music’. Raphael recalls: “Because of the Machito-Bauzá-Gillespie-Pozo collaborations, the jazz connection to latin music in New York was much stronger and the main icons and heroes were instrumentalists. In Puerto Rico it was the opposite. Those artists whom I played with there were all singers, so it was only natural that they embraced those genres. These styles were very big, but they were not what you would call jazz”.

Yet, there was another invasion of sorts taking place right around that time on the island. Although it had arrived rather late, the ‘bebop’ jazz sound that had emerged in New York during the nineteen fifties was making a big impact there, while in the mainland a whole new style of jazz was emerging. As the new decade approached, post-bop cool jazz and its offspring acid jazz were creating quite a stir. Before long names like Coltrane, Parker, Gillespie and Monk had all became household words among the up and coming musicians. Raphael mingled freely with the in-crowd which dug these contemporary sounds, and it began to rub off on him. He began collecting vinyl albums which he purchased at a local record store that catered to the island’s jazz set. It was all coming to him second hand, but at least he was getting his first taste of jazz, albeit in a land where very few jazzmen had been popular. By the time the U.S. embargo put a stop to the flow of dance music coming from Cuba, Puerto Ricans in general were keenly aware of the Afro-Cuban jazz fusion that was being played stateside by Cal, Mongo, Willie, Puente and Shearing, on both sides of the continent. But that style of Latin jazz was slowly fading and a whole new sound was already in the making. Most of these artists, save Shearing, would make the necessary transition in order to survive, both creatively and economically. "Funk" was in the air and it was penetrating the old vanguard.

Record labels such as Blue Note, CTI, Arista and CBS were distributing some great jazz on the island at that time. A new crop of Brazilian artists were making their mark in Puerto Rico too. Airto, Flora, Moacir, etc. And from the Big Apple came Miles, Chick and Herbie, so that wave after wave of new music entered the island. Musicians like Raphael were being drawn toward the epicenter of that sound, New York. Rafael Cortijo’s “La Maquina Del Tiempo” (a financial flop for the Coco label), along with the advent of Cuba’s Irakere, were seen as major developments in the new style of Caribbean jazz.

It was in Puerto Rico that Raphael would form his first band, RAICES, in 1976, with fellow islanders Monchi Sifre, Roberto “Pura” Cazar, Carlos Melendez and Amaury Lopez, all of whom were swimming the same currents as Raphael. One thing lead to another, as they say, and it was inevitable that a major label should take interest in them. Before long, Raíces was off to Miami to record at Criteria Studios, for Nemperor Records (formed in 1966 by Brian Epstein as Nemperor Artists, Inc., it was a subsidiary of Atlantic Records). Raíces’ executive producer was Nat Weiss, the lawyer for the Beatles. The studio A&R man was Bruce Botnick, who was responsible for putting Jim Morrison and the Doors on the map. Wave after wave of jazz-rock-latin fusion albums hit the record stores. Following Irakere’s debut in 1978 at the Newport Jazz Festival, Afro-Cuban rhythms were now front and center, and jazz was drawn closer and closer to clave. Unfortunately for Cortijo, the label never followed up with a second album, and by all accounts Cortijo just lost interest. Meanwhile, Irakere became a favorite of the fusionistic set. Raíces would not be so lucky.

NEW YORK CITY: BRIGHTS WILL GET YOU, AND MESS YOU AROUND

After coming to New York in the late seventies to perform with Raíces, Raphael decided to stay in our area for a while, at which time he worked the metropolitan club-circuit, for about three years. Unfortunately, Raíces did not last very long. They did manage however (and within a relatively short period) to get booked in all the top clubs in New York, Long Island, New Jersey and Connecticut. In 1977 they opened at the Dr. Pepper Jazz Festival in Central Park for the great Miles Davis, and garnered some rave reviews from the New York press. But fusionistic jazz did not take the country by storm, as many would have wanted, not in the way that latin rock had done. Raphael went on to be a studio musician, because commercially speaking, that was where the "real" money was. He worked for all the major labels, such as Warner Bros., Arista, CBS and toured with the likes of Stanley Turrentine, Herbie Mann, Dr. John, Carly Simon, Bette Midler and of course The Crusaders, the one group that kept him busy all year round. He didn’t want to tour exclusively, because studio work was quite lucrative at the time. As many musicians will tell you, when a player leaves town there will always be someone waiting to take their place. In the comfort of the studio, he had made great music alongside the likes of Steve Gadd, Jack de Johnette, Ray Barretto and Ralph MacDonald. He also worked some of the Broadway shows, before returning once again to Puerto Rico, where he formed a quintet along with Ender Dueño, Eddie "Guagua" Rivera, Carlos Melendez and Amunni Nasser. Under Raphael’s leadership, the group broke all previous attendance records at the Tetuan 20 Club in Old San Juan with their review "Tropicalia".

NEW ORLEANS: MUSICIANS WANTED, FUSIONISTS NEED NOT APPLY

A year into his stay on the island Raphael received a call from percussionist Mark Sanders in New Orleans, asking him if he wanted to work with Sanders’ band "Caliente". He immediately accepted and that decision led to his leaving the island permanently. "I found myself in the birthplace of Jazz, New Orleans, where I lived for about four years, performing in the company of such notables as Dr. John and the renowned pianist Ellis Marsalis Jr. I was maturing in an environment that exposed me to the best musical traditions and practices of that historical city. My first gig in the Crescent City was with the Neville Brothers, at the 1984 World’s Fair. All this had put me in a very privileged position, and inevitably those influences began to flow freely from my mind and body, manifesting themselves in the music that is now such an integral part of my life. Yet, there was something still missing from my life, and I truly didn’t know what it was".

Worthy of mention is the fact that vocalist Harry Connick, Jr. was Raphael’s pianist during that period, whenever he lead a Latin jazz group in New Orleans. The group played locally in all the clubs in the city, and would prove to be the prototype for the band which he now fronts. “This was the group that more or less established me in New Orleans”, he says. “I was feeling comfortable down there, and feeling comfortable with music is very important to me. Music for me is a labor of love, and I really felt the love down there. But at this time I was still searching for a particular sound that I kept hearing in my mind and it wasn’t happening there. Three years later, I went back to New York City and began to seek out the musicians who would eventually make that sound a reality”.

During the 1980′s, an era that for latin-flavored jazz was actually quite grim, Raphael nearly dropped out of the scene, but thanks to an incredible resurgence in this type of music, he began appearing regularly in clubs, theaters and concert halls, headlining in such venues as Town Hall, CBGB Gallery, Blue Note, Birdland, Zinc Bar, NJPAC (New Jersey Performing Arts Center in Newark, NJ) and many other venues that catered to jazz in related forms. He managed to travel abroad, often fronting a quintet made up of a who’s who in jazz. Latin jazz records did not sell well during this period (did they ever?) so more and more labels began turning their backs on the artists who performed this style. Raphael hung in there as best he could, and surfaced again at the tail end of the nineties. Never one to give up, he returned to the studio in 1998 with a group of excellent musicians, recording his first date as a leader. The result was the very creative "A Mano", which was released a year later. It was a labor of love for all involved, and the entire CD was recorded in one 14 hour session, with minimal overdubs. Memorable versions of "Stella By Starlight", "Night And Day", "Body And Soul", "Footprints" were recorded, and even Bob Dylan’s "Mr. Tambourine Man" got the Raphael Cruz treatment. He was on his way, so to speak. It would still prove to be quite a bumpy road.

Throughout the next decade, an extraordinary amount of jazz hit the New York area: various festivals flourished, not to mention the usual riches within the club scene. It was a time reserved not only for youth, but also for the mature crowd. But Raphael was not content at just playing straight ahead jazz for traditionalists. New aesthetic combinations, new attitudes toward repertoire, new paradigms and new venues all made for a more creative surge. Diversity was now the thing, and unlike the jazz festivals of the past, with their brand-polishing and sentimental favorites, these events really showed the public where the music and the culture of jazz in New York were going. Yet, Latin jazz remained marginalized. Raphael Cruz was definitely on his way, in a manner of speaking. The road to success, as they say, would turn out to be quite a bumpy one.

THE QUEST FOR RECOGNITION: A NEW (BUT OLD DILEMA)

It was at this precise point in time, when so many young percussionists sounded alike and all too often they seemed to emphasize their chops rather than their soul and authenticity, that a re-awakening began to take place, an appreciation of such subtle percussion stylists as Raphael Cruz. Slowly, some of the lightning-fast Giovanni Hidalgo clones began to learn the value of understatement, the proper usage of space, the discipline of clave and the relaxation of true swing. It was truly satisfying to have had such an institution as Raphael Cruz and his magnificent group, and of course to have heard and played his various CD’s on my radio show. I found them rich in beauty, nuance, controlled passion and un-aldulterated rhythm. But hey, that was just my humble opinion. History always seems to repeat itself, and once again, the public would have to be damned, because, in the purists eyes (or should I say ears?) these sessions did not reflect a valid art form. In 2008, Raphael’s music simply did not meet the standards of the old school Tito Puente, Ray Barretto or Poncho Sanchez format. So here we are again, in 2010, and experimental music such as that heard on "Time Traveler" is to be excluded from review. As with many artists before him, Raphael’s material has not been included in the rotation line-up of certain stations, (including one station that prides itself as being the premier jazz station in the U.S.) More often than not, these radio programers won’t give indy artists a logical reason as to why their music is not aired. The reasoning (or the lack of it) is mind boggling. So it is left to the alternative music stations to play, and as we all know, there aren’t really too many non-commercial stations out there. But this does not indicate that alternative Latin jazz is a lost cause.

By now, many devotees of fusionistic jazz (those who listen to alternative radio) have at one time or another heard Raphael’s first CD, "A Mano" and perhaps an equal amount have even contemplated purchasing it, which to my mind, is one of the greatest compliments that one can offer a jazz musician. Surely, Afro-Cuban Jazz lovers have delighted in hearing Raphael’s second production, "Bebop Timba", which won him the prestigious Grammy award for musical excellence in 2004. I believe that in anyone’s book this would have to rank as the second highest honor a musician can receive. For the record, Raphael Cruz won the coveted prize for the "Best Latin Jazz Recording of 2004". It was the best kept secret in America.

Earlier on I mentioned Raphael’s most recent endeavor; “Time Travel”, another gem of a record that includes an impressionable guest list; Sonny Fortune, Claudio Roditi, Dave Valentin, Raleph Vowen, Danilo Avilés, Stefan Held, Manuel Valera, Sergio Brandau, Pablo Vergara, Greg Murphy, Román Diaz, Giovanni Valladares, Diego Lopez, Alexis Zayas, Víctor Prieto, David Oquendo and myself, Chico Alvarez. The production was handled jointly by Raphael and Luis Güell, the recording and mastering engineer who had also been involved in one way or another with Raphael’s first two CD’s. Starting with "Bebop Timba", Güell now had a direct hand in the way Raphael’s music was recorded, and I assure you that the result has been sheer magic, which is why Güell’s studio wall is also decorated with a certificate from NARAS. Latinjazznet.com wishes them both the best of luck in their future projects together and hopes that their next collaboration will garner them their second Grammy.
Mr. Cruz currently resides with his family in North Bergen, New Jersey, and is a very active member of the arts community in the Hudson County area, often touring outside the area as well. To most of his friends and colleagues however, he is simply known as “Rafi”.

CODA

It is my contention that the past is inexplicably linked to the present, especially when it comes to the subject of music. Musicians (and all artists for that matter) tend to return to the past for inspiration and guidance, but it is definitely not the only place where one finds such inspiration. I asked a certain question at the beginning of this piece, and now, as we begin to wrap it up, I reiterate by asking Mr. Cruz himself to answer that question: "Rafi, exactly where does your inspiration come from?"

Raphael: "Inspiration, for me, comes from many different sources; past, present and future. It is a combination of genres, styles, moods and hues that I have been tuned into throughout my life. There may even be some concepts rolling around in my mind which have not fully developed yet. My experience helps me as well, because my influences are many. I have been blessed to have played with some of the best musicians in the world. Musical inspiration is like a painting, and it usually comes to me in colors. I see movement in these colors. But inspiration can also be very spiritual and transcendental. Remember that no one finishes a painting in one day, it must be worked on it, slowly. I can’t pinpoint any particular style or any one artist, it is an all-encompassing and inclusive sound, universal you might say. Ultimately, my appreciation for the music which has been evolving in my head since my formative years takes root. Each layer of sound leaves an impression on me, each generation has something new to offer, and while I always revert back to my roots, I never lose sight of what’s happening out there today. I incorporate everything that I see and hear in the world into my own version of the world. It is a deeply personal vision that is manifested in the music that I play and write. Ultimately, the feelings, the colors, the rhythms and the vision transfer themselves to the musicians with whom I play, so that they too feel it, they may experience it differently, but it all comes together, as a painting."

Raphael Cruz on the web: www.raphaelcruz.net

Feature written by: Chico Alvarez Peraza

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# Song Artist Album Label 01 The Wrong Jacket Alex Brown Pianist Sunnyside Records 02 A Night In Tunisia Antonio Adolfo and Carol Saboya Lá e Cá Self-Produced 03 Speak Low Arturo Sandoval A Time for Love Concord Jazz 04 Blues Guaguancó Bobby Carcassés De La Habana A Nueva York Vero Records 05 Obsesión Chris Washburne Fields of Moons Jazzheads Records 06 Slammin’ Claudio Roditi Simpatico Resonance Records 07 El Señor Esta Contigo The Movement El Movimiento Self-Produced 08 Capullito De Aleli Federico Britos Voyage Sunnyside Records 09 Caroline De Carol Hamilton de Holanda Quinteto Brasilianos 2 Adventure Music 10 Bala con Bala Hector Martignon Second Chance Zoho Music 11 Vatapá Kenia Kenia Celebrates Dorival Caymmi Mooka Records 12 Milestones Mark Weinstein Timbasa Jazzheads Records 13 Reencontro Nando Michelin Reencontro Self-Produced 14 Changó En Esmeraldas Omar Sosa and NDR Big Band Ceremony Otá Records 15 Ornithology Paul Austerlitz Journey Innova Recordings 16 El Jarriero Pedro Bermudez No Limits Self-Produced 17 Rua 26 Ricardo Silveira Til Tomorrow Adventure Music 18 Un Atardecer En Cartagena De Indias Samuel Torres Yaoundé Self-Produced 19 Journey Into Outland Steve Pouchie El Puente/The Bridge Self-Produced 20 Uma Gota Do Mar Trio Esperança De Bach á Jobim Dreyfus Disques

Feature written by: Raul da Gama

The sky darkens, Lorca-like and a primordial wail rips through it. “Ai…leh leh leh…/No sé qué tendrá mi pecho/no sé qué tendrá mi pecho…/que mi voz alevanta,” she sings as she cries… “I don’t know what’s in my chest/I don’t know what’s in my chest…/that my voice is arising.” Her voice cuts through the dense clouds and shoots across the sky towards the infinite… Beloved Carmelita has thrown her life away. Dressed like a siren, she emerges from her home to walk the streets. The singer is heartbroken. “Carmelita, adiós,” she warns… “Ai…leh leh leh…/No sabiendo que la rosa/no sabiendo que la rosa/muere triste y deshojada/a le le le,” “Not knowing that the rose/Not knowing that the rose/Dies sad and bereft of petals/Carmelita adios.”

Lucía Pulido’s voice is in flood, like the Orinoco when it rains and is angry that the earth is dry. Her voice rises and falls, ululating… mimicking the river as it soars high and mighty over everything, sweeping out of sight the flotsam and jetsam that despoil the green brown and blue of the soundscape. It is the cleansing fire, the heart’s desire. The gausá rattles and trembles in her hand as her voice is tremulous. The chirimía band that encourages her sensuous swagger to become intense as a dervish, or mystic… a saint in a trance until her energy and the band’s consume everything on the earth that bleeds with elemental sorrow—and many time with unbridled joy as well.

The album is Lucía Pulido, a 2000 release from the German label, Intuition. It is a pivotal one for Pulido, who is joined here by the Japanese percussionist, Satoshi Takeishi who arranges the songs and also plays the Tambora, Llamador and Redoblante—instruments of north and west African origin that are traditional to Colombia and elsewhere in South America, first brought over by the Spanish conquistadores. Like she has done on so many occasions before, Pulido reaches deep into the heart of her music. In fact she goes even beyond that to find the soul of the songs, the ghostly characters and develops the kind of bestiary that would have done that Argentinean master—Jorge Luis Borges—proud. Her lyricism is beautiful and her profound interpretations qualify her to be more than a griot. On the sensual “El Pilón,” a traditional feature that is like something from out of missing verses from the Biblical Songs of Solomon she cavorts with her characters, slurring and delaying the end notes of each phrase to depict near-drunken love and this infuses the song with dramatic puya effect.

Two religious songs make this album breathtakingly beautiful. The first is the somber, “En Una Tiniebla Oscura” devoted to the Virgin Mary and the other is played to “Cantos de Vaquería,” lavishly enhanced with brass and woodwinds. Her association with Bullerengue is masterful and the two on the album are unforgettable. “Porro Magangueleño” and “Carmelita, Adios” are so deeply felt that they are almost seared into the memory. “Zafra” is a high and lonesome zafra or herding song from the Atlantic coast of the country and is magnificently approached by bassist, Jairo Moreno, who might as well have bowed his way into a very special place in the realm of acoustic bass players. The percussionists make the piece much too seductive to resist. And “Velo Qué Bonito” is a funerary masterpiece, conceived and executed with sublime emotion.

Lucía Pulido is an artist who connects with the genre of song at a very elementally deep level. To that extent she exercises an almost shamanic control over the lyric, its narration and how it will affect the listener. In Africa she would be a gnawa, like Maalem Mahmoud Gania, the legendary Moroccan gnawa musician first brought out of Africa by Bill Laswell with the seminal Trance of the Seven Colors, a collaboration with the great tenor saxophonist, Pharoah Sanders that is a certified masterpiece, as is the other gnawa album produced by Laswell, The Next Dream with that other mystical gnawa artist, Bachir Attar.

Pulido is an artist who has been shaped by a passionate love for her country and is bonded to Colombia almost the way a wood sprite is bonded with a forest floor. The air she breathes seems to transform itself as it courses through her veins. Cultures collide in her heart and soul… African, Spanish, Caribbean, Amerindian. She may not be any one of them, but she is all of them. This is why her soul can float free, travelling infinitely across the country drawing on sounds and stories—real and mythical, concrete and mystical—until she has absorbed them and made them her own. It seems that she can experience life through every pore. As experiences become internalized they also form a continuum that Pulido transforms into her art using a voice that has no parallel in music. Pulido’s voice is like an instrument that is at once a part of her body as well as a musical device that is to be controlled with unbridled imagination and extreme virtuosity.

So complete is Pulido’s command of her sublime voice that she can set it free like a bird, watching as it catches a thermal and floats high and mightily across oceans of sound. She can bend it, let it crack and yodel with it. And because her voice is a mirror to her soul she can let it sink to depths of despair to conjure up images of extreme sadness—even the finality of death—before it rises and flies free as it is the soul itself ascending into the heavens where it will be ensconced, with celestial beings, as it finally comes to rest. That is just one of the stories she can tell. Her intonation is exquisite. Her songs become arias as she articulates not just emotions, but the complicated melodic and harmonic journeys that she undertakes to tell the music’s stories. She is a trumpet, a shepherd’s horn; a trombone and a lyre. She is a wood sylph, a siren, a saint and sinner crying out for salvation. She is a drum connecting with the animism of the rainforest as well as with the frightening prospect of life in a slum.

Clearly Pulido exists in a continuum that parallels the history of Colombia. Its fractured history from the time it was liberated from its Spanish colonists by Simón Bolívar through dictatorships of the early part of the 20th Century, the guerillas who tore up the country; the drug cartels—the chilling legacy of the 70’s. It was against this backdrop that Pulido first made a name for herself as the voice of the legendary duo, Iván y Lucía. The “Iván” of the dup was Iván Benavides, a songwriter and musician whose name was synonymous with the Nueva Canción movement, which incorporated the newly invented vallenato musical dialect, much in the same way Caetano Veloso’s and Gilberto Gil came to found Musica Popular Brasileira, or the tropicalia movement in song. Throughout the 80’s and the 90’s, the duo, Iván y Lucía ruled the Colombian popular music scene as Veloso and Gil, Elis and Maria Bethânia ruled the one in Brasil.

The power duo performed tirelessly criss-crossing the country, performing in small towns and large ones. Benavides grew into a truly accomplished composer, who probably did not get the credit he deserved for the music he helped create for a decade. It is unfortunate that the duo is known to have recorded only two albums and it is not really known how much of the music really remains for aficionados and collectors to treasure. It is however, impossible to erase from memory the recording and many performances of Benavides’ classic chart, “Alba,” a song which he wrote to a poem by José Luis Díaz Granados. Iván y Lucía created a song that became an anthem for a whole generation, as did other classic Nueva Canción compositions, “A la sombra del tiempo” and “Corazón” among the numerous others that Benavides created for his partner and himself to woo audiences with wherever they went to perform. Benavides also created songs of protest against the murderous politics of the paramilitary culture that was tearing Colombia apart then. A few have still survived. “Canción para los ausentes” and the towering “Afuera” were two such songs. The latter is as well known as the Brasilian legend, Chico Buarque’s “Calice.”

Then, in the early 90’s Carlos Vives, arguably Colombia’s most well known artist launched a new record label to celebrate the growing popularity of Colombia’s Nueva Canción. Gaira Musica Local was launched with the release of Lucía, Pulido’s first really solo album. Although produced by the prodigiously talented composer, pianist, accordionist and organist, Héctor Martignon, Iván Benavides returned to compose virtually all of the music and play guitars throughout the album. The music on Lucía stands out as one of the finest popular albums ever made in Colombia. The musical idiom is almost completely vallenato, a Colombian street rhythm long considered part of the lower class, untouchable culture by Colombian elites. Bookended by Benavides’ amazingly deep and moving chart, “La Hoguera,” the album also contains such gems as “Las Cuatro Palomas,” “El Piano Dolores” and the Caribbean flavored “Circulo Vicioso,” which was probably one of the most enduring melodies that Iván Benavides has ever written.

In 1994 Pulido arrived in New York and immediately began a niche for herself. Although her first solo album, Lucía was released by Vives’ label a year later, Pulido had already begun to meld the music of Colombia into a unique approach to her musical art, stretching her experimental style of singing to the limit. Traditional forms of music, such as Bullerengue, joropos and cumbia became launch pads for her fabulous flights of vocalastics. Her sophisticated art also encompassed cantos de vaquería, herding songs, alabaos funeral laments and cantos de zafra or harvest chants. After the success of Lucía Pulido: Cantos Religiosos y Paganos in 2000, she went on to release Dolor de Ausencia, a classic repertoire of broken love, despecho, twelve boleros and valses that are filled with such elemental sadness that are breathtaking in their sweep of the emotional beauty. The chart, “Aunque me duela el Alma” is one of those songs that will remain seared in the memory even with just one hearing. Once again Pulido had struck home not only with her amazing ability to turn timeless feelings into timeless music. The brilliance of her art continued to grow beyond even wild expectation. Still her appeal was largely niche and her recorded output considered to consist of specialized projects, although she continued to gain fame from performing not only in the United States, but also in Latin America and Europe as well.

In 2005, Pulido began a cycle of Songbooks with the writer and experimental guitarist, Fernando Tarrés y La Raza, Songbook I (Beliefs) and Songbook II (Prayers) will remain among the most ambitious vocal music ever committed to disc in any language or culture in any time. The full impact of Lucía Pulido’s sophistication and fearless experimental approach to music exists in these two discs released on the Argentinean label, BAU Records. The extraordinary musical journey is like a river in flood. Its brilliance is felt from the time the first bars are sounded by Tarrés’ spectacular guitars, Jerónimo Carmona’s deep resonant bass and the polyrhythmic gymnastics of Carto Brandán’s percussion and the host of other talented musicians. This incredible music continues unabated throughout Songbook I (Beliefs) . It is, however, Songbook II (Prayers) that is, without doubt, one of the most breathtaking albums in Pulido’s repertoire. On the opening chart, “Aqui te estoy esperando” Pulido provides the most extraordinary example of her vocal prowess as she sings the first few bars of the mystical song a capella but is eerily pitch perfect throughout its undulating progress. On her favorite, “La Hoguera (Final)” she duels in fine fashion with two fine percussionists, Jorge Sepúlveda and Urián Sarmiento.

The collective improvisation on both albums is clearly why New York musicians, David Binney and Erik Friedlander love to work with Pulido. Her innate ability to create music quite literally out of mouthfuls of air makes her one of the most precious artists in that city. It is also the reason why the Brasilian musician, Benjamin Taubkin tipped her for his own ambitious project, Contemporary America, Another Center (Adventure Music, 2007) a beautifully crafted recording where the musical idioms of 7 South American countries explode in an album of Amazonian splendor, as colorful as it is dense and rich and fresh in experimentalism. Experimentalism and unbridled creativity is also the most memorable aspect of Pulido’s tribute to the renowned Colombian writer, Rafael Pombo put together by Carlos Vives in 2008. And spectacular versions of “Canto de Zafra” and “Canto de Velorio” were included in the soundtrack for Gustav Deutsch’s experimental German film, Film ist: A Girl and a Gun, a musical experiment Pulido shared with three contemporary European musicians: Christian Fennez, Burkhard Stangl and Martin Seiwart.

Lucía Pulido created a sensation with her 2008 masterpiece, Luna Menguante/Waning Moon also released on the Adventure Music label. Here she celebrates her rare talent once again. Of all the vocalists in the world of music, especially those that practice the ancient, dying art of singing a story – not merely narrating – but telling it as griots do only a handful inhabit an atmosphere so rarified that they would qualify for canonization. If such sainthood was possible then Abbey Lincoln and Sheila Jordan would have been anointed a while ago. So would Sussan Deyhim, the Farsi singer of Sufi music and the Ethiopian singer, Ejigayehu “Gigi” Shibabaw, as well as Maria Bethânia from Brasil… and the reining griot princess would, of course, be Lucía Pulido from Colombia.

Of all of these vocalists, Lucía Pulido’s is the probably most arresting and sublime artistry. She has the most bewitching voice that can swirl from ebullient and festive to an elementally sad lament. So great is her control over the vocal dynamic that Pulido can summon sudden changes in power and density, by gathering her vocal chords and pouring liquefied dialogues with musicians and instruments. She is able to take command and consume a lyric and if she so pleases and the song demands, set it free to flutter into the ether to echo interminably until it pierces the heart like a perfectly-aimed arrow.

The album, Luna Menguante/Waning Moon is a breathtaking showcase of this otherworldly talent. It gathers together music from the folkloric traditions of the Colombian Caribbean, its Pacific Coast and the Eastern Plains. There are twelve songs rendered in an utterly ancient yet modern context with such brilliance that each seizes the senses and it is impossible to extract oneself from the lyric, the manner in which the song is vocalized and the dynamic sound canvas that she is able to conjure up. Pulido inhabits the music with body and soul. She alone commands what it will do to the senses – all six of them, which are at once her prisoner until the song becomes the epiphany.

Although each of the songs is exquisitely complete there is something extraordinarily magical with the ones she sings with the accompaniment of Stomu Takeishi’s bass. “I’ve No One to Love Me,” “Full Moon Song” and “Funeral Song” are exemplary in style, interplay with the bass and the power of voice over lyric. But is the 0.27 second, solo-voiced “Cattleherding Song” that will be best remembered for its power and solitary splendor. But then the other tracks are no less unforgettable… And the magic of Lucía Pulido’s voice continues to haunt long after the echoes of the last notes have died in the future.

This is an extraordinary record. Although many musicians may have attempted to bring the beauty of Latin American folkloric beauty to life, few artists are likely to have such a lasting impact as Lucía Pulido’s Luna Menguante/Waning Moon. Perhaps with the possible exception of Gigi’s Abyssinia Infinite, Sussan Deyhim’s Madman of God, Maria Bethânia’s As Canções Que Você Fez Pra Mim, Maryam Tollar’s work on Michael Occhipinti’s Sicilian Jazz Project and Abbey Lincoln’s Abbey Sings Abbey. But Pulido’s may be better than them all. Tragically, however, Lucía Pulido remains a niche artist, known for her extraordinary experimentalism rather than for the great vocalist that she is—in any country and in any time. Perhaps one day when musical tastes return to the high art that they once were Pulido will receive what is truly due to her.

Lucía Pulido on the web: www.luciapulido.com

Feature written by: Raul da Gama

Martignon’s virtuoso pianism often draws from—to use an Afro-Cuban term—a tumbao, a style commanded by a resonant 8th note of the bass line that pianists of South American origin often bring to that otherwise sweeping style of playing the piano. This is what makes pianists such as Chucho Valdés, Omar Sosa and Gonzalo Rubalcaba, Roberto Fonseca and Hilario Durán so unique. Martignon occupies a similar space in the stellar regions of the piano. His style is more vocal and his choice of notes not only bounce and stomp with hidden and revealed tumbadora-like accents, they can also be heard to cry—almost weep on occasion. His phrases roll and gambol and frolic like shrill children and when he wants to sound all grown up, then they are silken and sensual.

The rhythmic Martignon unfolds with revelry throughout the album, from João Bosco’s “Bala Con Bala” a tune that is woven like a tapestry—warp or melody, quite straight until it hits a certain note, then it wobbles and bumps, but weft, always inside out and intricate as it builds a maddeningly twisting harmony. The joropo treatment of “Coqueteos” is quite simply spectacular and offers a rare chance, at least on this album, to observe breathlessly, the percussive skills of Samuel Torres and the harp of Edmar Castañeda. And while “Guaji-Rita” may be elegiac at times, it is nevertheless like that skipping return in a funeral in New Orleans. Even “Alone Together,” a chart that is normally played rather pensively is animated and keeps the heart pumped with expectation that things might change on a dime. It bears mention here that Martignon is wonderfully assisted in his rhythmic quest by his bassist, Armando Gola, drummer, Ludwig Afonso and the Colombian percussionist, Samuel Torres.

While Martignon can be wildly exciting with rhythm, he also displays a softer side, which is often coloured by wistfulness and a sense of longing that is so characteristic of artists—and certainly, highland folk—and sometimes with sensuality that is irresistibly South American. The elegiac tribute to his brother in “Andrea” and the wonderfully dreamy “Hatari,” where the full force extent of the talent of saxophonist, Xavier Perez, trumpet and flugelhorn player, John Walsh and Torres’ sensitive use of the percussion palette is heard are the true gems of this album.

The contemporary nature of this album should not go unnoticed. Despite the use of several traditional song forms, Martignon sounds modern and is indeed very forward-thinking in his approach to each and every one of them on this highly memorable album.

Tracks: Bala Con Bala; Second Chance; Coqueteos; Guaji-Rita; Andrea; She Said She Was From Sarajevo; Abre Los Ojos; Hatari; A Long Farewell; Alone Together.

Personnel: Hector Martignon: piano, accordion (7); Armando Gola: bass; Ludwig Afonso: drums; Samuel Torres: percussion; Xavier Perez: saxophones; Tim Collins: vibes (1, 2, 7, 8); Vinny Valentino: guitar (1); Edmar Castañeda: harp (3); John Walsh: trumpet, flugelhorn; Edward Perez: bass.

Hector Martignon on the web: www.foreignaffair.com

Review written by: Raul da Gama

However unlike Desandann, which remains principally rooted in Afro-Haitian spiritual verve, Trio Esperança have broadened the scope of their music to include classical music from several eras—from baroque to the Beatles—melding it with the Brasilian to produce a burnished music that swells with sensuousness and gushes in waves of mighty Amazonian splendour.

De Bach á Jobim recorded after a span of five years since Bis-Jovem Guarda (EMI, 2006), is short, but features a powerful repertoire that spans 400 years—literally—from arias written based on suites and a cantata by Johann Sebastian Bach to classic charts by Jobim, an eternal song by Chico Buarque, “Joana Francesca” and a couple of Beatles favourites. “Penny Lane” has been rendered in Portuguese and is tinged with sadness. It melds the story of the Beatles original with the melancholy of chorinho with the splendour of a baroque choir. “Blackbird” is sung a Capella, in English, one of three or four languages that the group sings in. Both are masterful versions of songs that once defined popular culture. Here lies the rub. What sets Trio Esperança apart from any a Capella ensemble today is that they slide perfectly into popular culture today as they once did with Bossa Nova and MPB.

With contralto, mezzo soprano and soprano voicings the ladies of Trio Esperança direct their intakes of breath with such wonder that they are able to hang on to notes and make them vibrate with tremulous wonder. They do so on a superb version of “Joana Francesca” and “Romaria” and when they are joined on the surprise hidden track by their brother, Mario, which quotes freely from Puccini’s Turandot in a memorable manner.

The arrangements on this album are the sublime handiwork of Eva Corrêa’s husband and the group pianist, Gérard Gambus. The production is masterful, with the violão of Marcio Faraco just where it should be, weaving a musical tapestry in and out of the heavenly voices of Trio Esperanç as they guide the wide-eyed and the breathless on a memorable musical journey from Bach to Jobim.

Tracks: Caminho Da Razão; Upa Neguinho; Desafinado; A Rosa (Rancho Das Flores); Penny Lane; Blackbird; Samba Do Avião; Cantiga; Odeon; Joana Francesca; Uma Gota Do Mar; Romaria.

Personnel: Eva Corrêa: vocals; Mariza Corrêa: vocals; Regina Corrêa: vocals; Mario Corrêa: vocals; Marco Faraco: violão; Silvano Michelino: percussion; Inor Sotolongo: percussion; Marc Berthoumeiux: accordion; Gérard Gambus: piano. Strings of the Budapest Symphonic Orchestra.

Trio Esperança on the web: www.facebook.com/pages/Trio-Esperanca/

Review written by: Raul da Gama

Federico Britos thrills throughout. His violin soars with sublime glissandi. It flutters and lets out melodious cries of triumph as he invents phrases and lines that revitalize old melodies. Britos ascends great heights of sound filling the silent spaces with speech-like gasps, high and mighty wails and epic moans that collide to create astounding sounds—beautiful, definitive arias hover and dance in the waning moments of their own music as the moments die into the past. However every moment of each song is a quantum packet of beauteous energy from the elegiac ballad to his wife, “Vivian” to the irresistibly seductive “Vivian Flavia de las Mercedes” and the memorable flamenco call and response of “Tomatito & Federico” a duet with the virtuoso Spanish guitarist, Tomatito.

Among the other gems on the album are the luminous versions of “Moonglow” and “Avalon” featuring Bucky Pizzarelli, a spectacular descarga—a hot Cuban jam—with the late bassist, Israel “Cachao” Lopez and two wonderful songs on which Puertorican conguero, Giovanni Hidalgo stretches majestically. The first is Rafael Hernandez’s “Capullito de Aleli” and the second is a track that closes the album on a high note, “Micro Suite Cubana.” On the latter, Hidalgo’s virtuosity is almost palpable and his wonderful solo throws the otherwise calm Britos into a violin frenzy of sorts as he reaches in to the uppermost register of his magnificent instrument, to play trill after trill of almost impossibly high notes with clarity and spectacular effect.

It is impossible to resist superlatives as Britos engages in triangular, quadrangular conversations with special other guests on Voyage. Bassist, Eddie Gomez, pianists Michel Camilo and Kenny Barron thrill to his music and respond in equal measure on “Vivian Flavia de las Mercedes” and “After You’ve Gone” respectively. The vastly underrated talents of pianist and arranger Carlos Franzetti are also represented here as is the percussion genius of Ignacio Berroa. These major artists, together with a myriad others make Federico Britos’ Voyage utterly irresistible.

Tracks: Vivian; After You’ve Gone; Vivian Flavia de las Mercedes; Moonglow; Tomatito & Federico; Capullito de Aleli; Las Vegas Station; Lluvia de Colores; Avalon; A Las Cuatro de la Manana; Okey Paganini; Oriente; Micro Suite Cubana.

Personnel: Federico Britos: violin (violin ensemble and soloist 1), arrangements (2 – 5, 8 – 12); Carlos Franzetti: piano and arrangements ( 1, 7); Eddie Gomez: double bass (1, 7); Ignacio Berroa: drums (1, 7); Leonardo Suarez Paz: violin (1, 7); Kristof Witek: violin (1, 7); Hector Falcon: violin; Federico Britos: violin (1, 7); Ron Lawrence: viola (1, 7); Zackaria Enikeev: viola (1, 7); Jessy Levy: cello (1, 7); Garo Yellin: cello (1, 7); Kenny Barron: piano (2); Phil Flanigan: double bass (2); Francisco Mela: drums (2); Michel Camilo: piano (3); James Chirillo: guitar (4, 9); Jon Burr: double bass (4, 9); Tomatito: guitar (5); Giovanni Hidalgo: congas and chekere (6, 13); Felix Gomez: piano (6, 10, 13), arrangements (6); Eddie “Guagua” Rivera: baby bass (6, 10, 13); Edwin Bonilla: percussion (6, 10, 13); Bucky Pizzarelli: guitar (9); Gaby Vivas: double bass (8, 11, 12); Antonio Adolfo: piano (8); Carlomagno Araya: drums (8); Israel “Cachao” Lopez: double bass; Jorge Vivas: guitar (11, 12); Eric Bogart: drums (11); Rafael Solano: percussion (12); German Piferrer: arrangements (13).

Federico Britos on the web: www.myspace.com/federicobritosvoyage

Review written by: Raul da Gama

So it is with the wonderful “Blues Guaguancó” the musicians open the proceedings with incredible melodic invention—one firing graceful depth bombs on the tumba, another tapping out a staccato counter melody playing cross-clave and striking up a counter rhythm, setting up the third—a quinto—to run riot as Carcassés mimics both melody and rhythm before the saxophone cuts in. This is not uncommon in a rumba derivative of this nature, but the one tapped out by Bobby Carcassé is stunning. The high level of energy; the inventive twists and turns in Carcassés phrasing and intonation; his soprano overtones simultaneously and magically overlaid upon his husky, breathless voice as it careens madly swerving around the melody as he turns music into the high art of creativity.

Even when he sings in a language patently foreign to him, when he sings Youmans’ fabulous song, “Sometimes I’m Happy” rolling his “R’s”and elongating his “ou’s” he conjures up memories of Jimmy Durante and Victor Borge. Yet Carcassés is being himself, the Cuban anomaly, born of the same genius that created Benny Moré, Arsenio Rodriguez and Chano Pozo, Emiliano Salvador and Chocolate. Just As wonderfully and impossibly, he turns George Gershwin’s “Summertime” into an a capella classic filled with such unheard of magic that for once, it appears someone has outdone every singer and scat artist in town—including, improbably, Bobby McFerrin, in the twisted and breathtaking ending of the song.

The emotion he is able to squeeze out of his voice in the Afro-centric, “Babalú” as he chases Andrea‘s Brachfeld’s flute and Yosvany Terry’s alto saxophone, stirring up a quiet frenzy with his scat singing as the chorus of Magilé Alvarez and Descemer Bueno keep things anchored in the son montuno is a thing of beauty and unforgettable. That must be a peak? But no, now there is more as the ensemble launches into “Blues for Chano” with Osmany Paredes’ expansive piano followed by Carcassés’ mystical call to the conjure up the spirit of his percussionist friend. Then a muted, charged flugelhorn solo marks the walking lines of the blues segment of the song before he comes back to the Afro-Cuban rumbero tribute again. Here Carcassés is majestic—a shaman communing with the spirits, a king chanting a royal pronouncement and a mad rumbero himself, goaded on by superb drumming from the prodigiously talented drummer, Dafnis Prieto.

“Veronica,” a wonderful ballad to his wife, shows the elegiac side to Bobby Carcassés and also recalls his softer side. His flugelhorn break following the first half chorus is also worthy of a virtuoso horn player, which he certainly is. Here too his intonation and phrasing is exceptional in its understatement. And finally there is “De Habana á Nueva York, a track that melds danzon with guaguancó, guaracha, bolero, mambo and the blues, via a muted, yet charged solo by Carcassés as he traces his colourful life from child to manhood, from Cuba to the United States.

This album is definitive Bobby Carcassés. It is the high point of his artistry, an honest, emotional and devastatingly beautiful album by an artist who joins several of his peers as one who defines a culture, a whole way of life that is boundless in its creativity, humility and spirituality.

Tracks: Blues Guaguancó Sometimes I’m Happy; No Seras de Mi; Green Dolphin Street; Babalu; Summertime; Blues Para Chano; Veronica; De La Habana a Nueva York.

Personnel: Bobby Carcassés: vocals, flugelhorn, percussion, piano, arrangements; Dafnis Prieto: drums; Osmany Paredes: piano; Yunior Terry: bass; Yosvany Terry: saxophones, chekere; Marvin Diz: percussion; Andrea Brachfeld: flute (5); Magilé Alvarez: chorus; Descemer Bueno: chorus.

Bobby Carcassés on the web: www.bobbycarcasses.com

Review written by: Raul da Gama