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The New Times, By Judy Cantor
Dec. 17, 1998
Old Cuban music never dies, it just gets reissued. Blame it in part on the
success of the 1997 Grammy Award-winner Buena Vista Social Club, but remastered
or re-recorded CDs of all manner of Cuban oldies keep on coming. In 1998 record
companies strip-mined the seemingly infinite mountain of Cuban patrimony as
never before. Multinational major labels and independents have issued a
cavalcade of albums this year featuring old coots with great chops, gems from
the Forties and Fifties, revolutionary rarities, and innovative postmodern
homages that have taken the strains of Cuban nostalgia far beyond its home base
in Miami's exile community.
A potpourri of recent offerings issued just in time for the holidays
exemplifies the variety of recycled Cuban music being produced: restored
recordings from the island's archives, fresh arrangements of Cuban evergreens by
contemporary musicians based in Miami and Cuba, and a venerable orchestra's
retakes of their own erstwhile hits.
Cuba Es Musica, a four-disc set, compiles musical performances taped for
Havana's Radio Progreso during the Forties and Fifties. A testimony to the most
fertile era in Cuban big band music, the set features songs by period stars like
Barbarito Diez, Benny Moré, La Sonora Matancera, and Conjunto Casino. The
recordings, which were stored on 78 rpm discs in the Radio Progreso archives,
were recovered by Venezuelan producer Alejandro Blanco-Uribe. In accordance with
the Cuban Music Institute, he took them to England's Cambridge University, where
they were restored using the Cedar Audio System, a state-of-the-art technique
for cleaning up old recordings. The tracks on Cuba Es Musica are indeed free of
crackles and clicks from the old vinyl; still, the sound quality is thin and
distant, due most likely to the less-than-stellar recording facilities at the
radio studio. With today's technology, more might have been done to enhance it.
Nonetheless it is possible to appreciate the lilting flute, thumping upright
bass, and other acoustic instruments that characterized the era's typical band
format. And the set is worth listening to if only to hear Rolando LaSerie
singing the bawdy "Si lo Encuentro lo Mato," accompanied by pianist
Bebo Valdes, and Orquesta Sensacion's playful take on "El Manisero."
But Cuba es Musica contains nothing anywhere near as exciting as Panart's
famed Cuban Jam Sessions (reissued in 1996 by Musart), or the down-home emotion
of Buena Vista's country son. The Radio Progreso performances (at least those
selected by Blanco-Uribe) represent the commercial tastes of the time: romantic
ballroom music. The tracks on this compilation are a scant two or three minutes
long, too short to extend into the juicy instrumental solos and vocal
improvisations that are the hallmark of the Cuban sound. Record companies are
strip-mining the mountain of Cuban patrimony as never before.
Blanco-Uribe has included only about 30 minutes of music on each disc,
perhaps keeping in mind that a little of this vintage stuff goes a long way. (In
any case he could have fit this material on just two discs.) As a historical
document, Cuba Es Musica has value. Longtime Cuban exiles and prerevolutionary
Cubaphiles are sure to enjoy the set for the memories of the good old days this
music is bound to inspire.
Willy Chirino's Cuba Libre is the Miami salsero's personal salute to what he
refers to as "Cuba B.C." (Before Castro.) This zesty dance album of
well-known oldies features Chirino performing duets with Celia Cruz and a host
of Miami-based singers, including Jon Secada, Roberto Torres, Chirino's wife
Lissette and his daughters, the Chirino Sisters. Albita Rodriguez's lusty vocals
on "Que Viva Chango" and brief interlude on "Soy Guajiro"
are arguably her best showings on any recording since her arrival here in 1993.
Trumpeter Arturo Sandoval also guests.
There's a likeable looseness to the entire production, and it sounds as if
fun was had by all involved in the recording sessions. Chirino has gathered
songs in a variety of Cuban styles: son, guaracha, country guajira, and
guaguanco. The tracks include the usual suspects — "Guatanamera,"
"El Manisero," and "Son de la Loma" — with saucy
arrangements by Chirino, Carlos Infante, and Steve Roitstein. In the style of
contemporary dance groups from Cuba, Chirino has wisely added hard-edged
percussion to his trademark pop-salsa style, resulting in a gutsier sound. "Cuba
Que Lindos Son Tus Paisajes" with Cruz, "Que Viva Chango," and "Habanera
Tu/La Bella Cubana" with Secada and the Chirino Sisters are standouts.
Elsewhere, touches like galactic electric piano riffs sound dated and
cheerleading vocals about Cuba's storybook past ("La Esquina Habanera")
soon become cloying and tiresome. But overall Cuba Libre is a likable effort, a
sunny sampler of local talent.
Another made-in-Miami production in a very different mood, Grupo Cafe
Nostalgia's Te Di la Vida Entera smolders like a lipstick-stained cigarette. Far
from a rousing tribute to the treasures of Cuban music's hallowed past, it
points to the musical future. Echoing from the island's underbelly, Te Di la
Vida Entera reeks of the beloved decadence of Havana nights.
Café Nostalgia owner Pepe Horta is the executive producer of the
album, released in Europe by the French label Naive. (It is due out in the
United States in early 1999.) Te Di la Vida Entera was conceived as a soundtrack
for the novel of the same name by the young Cuban writer Zoe Valdes, who lives
in Paris. (The songs are mentioned in the book.) The novel has not been
published in English, which renders the concept largely irrelevant to many
listeners here. No matter. Snatches of dialogue from the novel recorded between
songs come off as superfluous, but not particularly bothersome. Most
importantly, the music tells its own story.
The extraordinary material gathered here speaks not only of a particular era
in Cuba (primarily the Forties and Fifties), but of the exchange of Cuban music
with the world. Together these songs evoke the concept of displacement and exile
in a transcendent way that's not only about Cubans. The album starts off with "Be
Careful, It's My Heart," written by Irving Berlin and recorded in English
by Cuban pianist and cabaret performer Bola de Nieve. In this version Bola's
recorded vocals alternate with those of Nostalgia bassist Omar Hernandez, a Nat
King Cole-Natalie Cole-type tactic that works surprisingly well. Hernandez, the
album's arranger, has reworked an Edith Piaf song ("Mon Manege a Moi")
into a danzon. Ariel Cumba, a man, sings it in French, retaining the female
pronouns. Also included are numbers originally recorded by the infamous torch
singer La Lupe, and Freddy, a husky black woman who worked as a cook before
embarking on her brief singing career. "Un Cubano en Nueva York," an
amusing Forties' obscurity, was perhaps the first song recorded in Spanglish.
Grupo Nostalgia and guests put on an impressive and original show. Luis
Bofill cements his reputation as Miami's own Benny More. Maria Ruesga's deep
lusty vocals are pure steam on "Mienteme," originally a hit for famed
bolero singer Olga Guillot. Hernandez's classy arrangements sound fresh while
adhering to period style. His original music on the last track, which pairs
swinging Afro-Cuban percussion with chanting by Anselmo "Chembo"
Febles, leaves you wanting to hear more from him. Producer Carlos Alvarez, who
also produced Nostalgia's raucous live album last year, polished the band's
sound but left it rough around the edges. It's as if the whole sensuous
recording was soaked in rum. All together, a risky production that worked.
Issac Delgado is one of the finest singers and most innovative bandleaders
to come out of contemporary Cuba. You wouldn't know it, though, after listening
to his latest album, the misguided La Primera Noche, recorded in Spain for New
York's RMM records. The album mixes Delgado's old favorites, including songs by
Cesar Portillo de la Luz and Celina Gonzalez, with original compositions by the
singer and his co-producer and bassist, Alain Perez. Although not badly
produced, La Primera Noche is like an easy-listening version of the ballsy
contemporary Cuban dance music called timba. Facile lyrics, cheesy synthesizers,
and Kenny G.-ish horns make for a sad performance from someone who knows better.
A saccharine duet with Spanish singer Ana Belen is simply depressing. This
recording is a cautionary tale of what happens when an accomplished Cuban artist
consciously panders to foreign commercial tastes.
The new album by the venerable Orquesta Aragon serves up what's expected.
This capable production, recorded in Cuba and available here on Candela Records,
features a retrospective of hits by the 60-year-old band, revamped by the
orchestra's current lineup. This compendium of dance-inducing cha-cha-cha's
heavy on African dance-music influences, virtuoso violin, and flute, makes for a
comfortable ride for experienced Cuban music fans. For neophyte listeners who
want to do some time-traveling through the history of Cuban music, the members
of Orquesta Aragon make for some mighty fine guides. <Picture>
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