But it’s not all glamour for island’s top rock band
By Mary Murray. NBC NEWS. MSNBC.
May 31, 2001.
HAVANA, May 30 — Move over, Buena Vista Social Club and your nostalgic
big band sound. This summer’s hottest craze on the island is Moneda Dura, a
pop rock group that spices things up with traditional Cuban percussion and beats
like the son, pilon and chachacha.
THREE YEARS AGO, these struggling musicians were playing at "quinces"
or sweet-15 birthday parties and knocking on doors to beg local radio disc
jockeys to play their "toasted" CD, Cuban slang for a homemade demo.
They were part of the underground — amateur musicians who forgo
formal study at the island’s prestigious musical conservatories.
In Cuba, where education is free and talent is readily recognized,
the music industry is an elite society that sidelines the untrained.
But, when you’re a band made up of six good-looking guys with
tremendous teenage sex appeal, you can conquer anything. Timing, also, made all
the difference.
"We started at a moment when the Cuban youth culture was
completely saturated with salsa. Kids were looking for something else and they
found the answer in our music. We offered a new style," said Nassiry Lugo,
at 26 is the youngest member of Moneda Dura — which means hard currency —
and a Cuban teen idol.
While studying English at Havana University, Lugo founded the band
with one of his professors, Humberto Fernández, bass guitarist.
SWOONING TEENS
Their songs are emotional high-energy, instant rhythms played without
the famed precision of most Cuban music. But what woos the fans is is the raw
power, especially when jumping and gyrating in front of their young fans.
Their lyrics also appeal to young cynics like my 14-year old daughter
and her swooning girlfriends, already recovering from their first heartbreaks.
"These guys are honest. Most guys just sing about love and
broken hearts. But Moneda Dura sings about how guys cheat on their girlfriends,"
explained Dhara.
The song these young fans inexplicably like best is "Lola,"
a jaunty tune about a transvestite who struts her stuff while riding a bicycle
and wearing mini-skirt. (A different "Lola" from the transvestite
featured in The Kinks’ song.) Very Cuban but very taboo. Even with its
fairly blameless lyrics, the song apparently caught a censor’s disapproving
eye.
Moneda Dura's young fans can't get enough of the new Cuban heart-throbs.
Organizers of Cubadisco, one of Havana’s most popular music
festivals, reportedly advised the group to strike "Lola" from its live
repertoire.
The band’s reaction? "Lola" closed every Cubadisco
live performance during the week, continuing as its trademark song.
Censor? Lugo and Fernández refused to acknowledge the concept.
They brushed it off as a critic with bad taste.
"It always happens. It’s part of the feedback. Some people
hate the song but many more love it. As long as people want to hear ‘Lola,’
we’ll keep on playing it. No song compares to the energy we get back from
the audience," Lugo said.
FAME, BUT NO FORTUNE
Moneda Dura may be fast becoming Cuba’s biggest pop-rock group
but fame in Cuba brings very little fortune. "We don’t have a penny to
our name," jokes Fernández, who shows his empty pockets. "But
we’re not looking for millions either. We just want to make a living with
our music. We’re doing what we love."
So, there are no fancy studios for this band. They rehearse in the
lead guitar player’s living room. No condos or upscale beach homes. Most
live with extended families or in apartments the size of postage stamps.
No fancy BMWs or SUVs. Band members get around town on bicycles or by
hailing black-market taxis.
But they’d be happy with some of the basics even the poorest
American musician takes for granted.
STAYING IN TOUCH
The entire band grouses, for instance, that only Lugo has a
telephone. They’re not talking about phones for their non-existent cars but
that old-fashioned contraption sitting on a hallway table at home.
To reach anyone other than Lugo, you must use the method most of the
island relies on — pester the closest neighbor with a phone.
On this score, Fernández considers himself lucky: "The
woman next door is really good about taking down all my messages."
But, tracking down Miguel Atencio, the conga player and a former
engineering student, is a little more complicated. Since he’s rarely home,
friends and family actually call a local radio station who’ll pass along
messages on the air.
"If anyone sees Miguel from Moneda Dura, tell him his mama wants
him to stop by." Everyone in Moneda Dura laughs at Atencio’s
predicament.
That high-spirit attitude goes a long way in a country where the
music czars just recently began to take rock ‘n’ roll seriously.
Groups like Moneda Dura have entered the mainstream of Cuban music mainly
because their fans would have it no other way. There’s even one case where
a bootleg CD flooded the local market a full year before the rock band made
their first professional recording.
They could also make do with better instruments, as well as new audio
and mixing equipment. Halfway through a recent concert in Havana’s Pabexpo
hall, two of their main amplifiers temporarily blew out. Not that anyone noticed
as the audience, which was singing along, easily drowned out the band.
Self assurance typifies Moneda Dura and Cuba’s youth culture.
"We’ve carved out a place. We know we have something to say,"
Fernández said.
"We want the world to know there are young Cuban musicians with
a new Cuban sound. A sound that belongs to everyone. Our goal is to take our
message global."
Moneda Dura has already started down that road. Last year, the group
toured Spain three times and recently returned from a week-long engagement in
Mexico.
This summer the Cuban band plans to perform at an alternative Latin
music festival in New York City.
NBC’s Mary Murray is based in Havana.
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