Cubanocast

A familiar sight

To follow up on the coffee songs from this post, I will now search my vast Cuban music collection: Round and round...voila!

Our Boricua neighbors' most famous band is the wonderful El Gran Combo. Since Puerto Rico's founding in 1493, they've been putting out world-class Caribbean music. Their Salsa is exceptionally level-headed, with neither the vulgarity that mars today's Reggaeton nor the exaggerated sentimentality of most modern Salsa.

The message in "Azuquita Pa'l Cafe" is one I endorse: God created women to lighten men's coffee. God's gift, indeed. And, such a variety! All bring something to the table (figure of speech, ladies).

It's the podcast.

Rocking that hair clip, one of the girls El Gran Combo might have come across on the beaches of Puerto Rico.

30 Aniversario Bailando Con El Mundo

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Without knowing her by name, I became familiar with Omara Portuondo during my semi-obsessive Cuban music days, when I spent much of my last couple of years of college acquiring and learning about Cuban music. Cuarteto d'Aida is one of the acts on the BMG Tropical Series, which has some great Beny More cds as well as Tito Puente and others.

d'Aida mostly sang covers, so nobody can claim that they were trailblazers. Still, Omara, her sister, Elena Burke, and Moraima Secada had beautiful voices. The first song in this post is a combination of "Yenyere Cumae" and "El Bombon de Elena," a Puerto Rican song. I also like "Carinito Azucarado."

The Cuarteto stayed in Cuba after the revolution and I've heard some of their songs from this period. Similar to their late fifties stuff, but with revolutionary themes. Omara was rediscovered by international audiences with the release of Ry Cooder's Buena Vista Social Club. She sang "Veinte Anos" with Ibraham Ferrer.

The album she won the Grammy for is called Gracias. The lovely Brazilian-style title song is the podcast.

Classic Cuban music didn't exist in a vacuum. Just like the pre and immediate post-war world loved Cuban music, Cubans loved foreign music. Brazilian, Mexican, and Argentine music was popular, but American music probably left the biggest impression: Frank Sinatra inspired Cuban imitators in a music Cubans called "Filin" or "el Feeling." Jazz was huge, of course. Some of the influences are subtle, and some are quite obvious. Here are some of the easy ones:

One "lady" who sure did get around was Minnie the Moocher. On her way to Sweden, she must have stopped by Havana to catch a show by Miguelito Valdes. Miguelito Valdes' Minnie turn is above. Cab Calloway is below.

King of Hi-De-Ho: 1934-1947

Celia Cruz has a song called "Rock and Roll." It's funny that they only considered Rock a "new rhythm," or one of many and apparently had no idea that it would become the dominant force in popular music.

Cuban Queen

One of the most popular songs from the immediate post-revolution Cuba is Los Zafiros. They mixed Cuban rhythms with American Rock and Roll, especially Doo Wop. This one's called "Puchunguita Ven." You can probably hear several American songs in there.

Bossa Cubana

According to this interesting book, Olga Guillot was one of the leading Cuban singers of the Filin movement. Here she sings "La Noche de Anoche." You can tell why the style became popular. Filin is a good match for the melodramatic Latin sensibility.

Los 15 Grandes Exitos

Wait! I happen to have all of the singers mentioned in the book. And, they're all on one superb collection that I purchased a few years ago. It's called 100 Canciones del Milenio and you can buy it below.

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I was listening to "Quimbombo" by Machito, remembering that a few other songs had "quim" in it, and realizing that I had no idea what it meant. I looked it up. According to the Reverso dictionary, "quim" means "coño," which, if you hear it and it's directed at you, means that you've pissed off some Cuban or Spanish dude (or a very unladylike Spanish or Cuban woman).

"Quimba" is "sandal," in parts of the Caribbean and "debt" in the Andes.

The definition that makes most sense in an Afro-Latin musical context, however, is as part of the name of an Afro-Brazilian religion called "Quimbanda".

OK. On to the music. The podcast is "Quimbara" by Celia Cruz. It's one of her best sixties, post-Sonora Matancera songs. It takes a while to get going, but really sizzles once the chorus pushes her into an improvisational, son style.

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Technical problems have kept me from my Juan Cubanoseedian duties recently.

Here's a nice jam called "Sonando" by Maraca. Typical of much modern Cuban music, the lyrics are rambling and the singing, unmelodious chanting, improvised in the montuno style.

The playing is very good and the music has a quality hook.

Cuban Nights

This excellent CD is from 1959. In January of that year, optimism and uncertainty accompanied every Cuban whether he walked along the beautiful countryside or teeming Havana. Fulgencio Batista had just decided that his position was no longer tenable as he lost support from the United States as well as most Cubans, who wanted cleaner government. "Los Barbudos" or the "bearded ones," led by the unshorn Fidel Castro, easily filled the vacuum in the politically abandoned capital. It was only later that Castro declared his intention to "progress" Cuba to the state it's in now.

The songs on this album are filled with the optimism prevalent in the beginning of the revolution. The one in the podcast is called "Los Barbudos." Other songs have equally evocative titles like "land reform." There's still no hostility to the United States, as some of the songs are in English. The Tumbao All-Stars was a group truly worthy of the name. It featured top-notch musicians like Orestes Lopez and R. Azpiazu. If you have any interest in Cuban music, Jazz, Swing, or anything related, this is a great album to acquire.

Cuban Big Band Sound: Tumbao Cubano

Frutero Moderno

Award shows cause me psychic pain so I missed the Grammys; however, I thought it would be fun to listen to the nominees for the Tropical Latin category and did so thanks to the miracle of Rhapsody. I now present my findings. First up is Frutero Moderno by Gonzalo Grau y La Clave Secreta.

The reference in the album's title is to Cuban style pregones, or songs based on the calls of street vendors (this soon-to-be-updated post).

Clave Secreta knows how to play and Gonzalo Grau is a fine singer. Except for a dirging, wince-inducing "Amanecer en Clinthea," the music is mostly free of pretension, as are the traditional mulata and dance lyrics. "Alarma," the one in the podcast, is an anti-Castro, reporter-style vignette of police-state Cuba.

What Frutero Moderno lacks are memorable melodies: You get chant-montuno-rap over a solid Salsa beat, but nothing you'd put on a playlist. Particularly offensive in this regard is "Mujer Divina:" Love songs should be melodic to facilitate swaying or other, non-dancing activities. "Mujer Divina" is percussive piffle.

The lack of original melodies is most apparent when the songs echo classic Cuban songs like "Frutas del Caney," below, and "Buche y Pluma."

La China en la Rumba

"Amanecer en Calithea" actually caused me to wince.