And the salsa beat goes on ... ; Genre's
alleged death greatly exaggerated; [Chicago Final Edition]
Ernesto Lechyner, Special to
the Tribune. Chicago
Tribune. Chicago,
Ill.: Dec 21, 2004. pg. 3
Salsa is dead. Gone. Kaput. Forget about it. A comatose genre
swallowed
alive by other styles of Latin music: rock en espanol and hip-hop,
reggaeton and
norteno.
Salsa is dead. Or is it?
For the last few years, the alleged death of salsa has been morbidly
discussed in publications across the Americas. Much like the death of
rock (or jazz,
or punk or reggae), the subject has become a cliche, focusing on the
limited
commercial success of contemporary salsa in terms of record sales and
mainstream recognition.
Take a look at the vibrant salsa community that continues to flourish
in the
U.S. and Latin America, however, and a different picture begins to
emerge.
"Those statements about the death of salsa are made by people who
clearly
know absolutely nothing about this music," says Rudy Mangual,
publisher of
Latin Beat, a West Coast-based monthly magazine that for the 14 years
has been
covering Afro-Caribbean music.
"Salsa is just like rock," Mangual adds. "It has its highs and lows,
but it
is too established a style to just die.
"For us, salsa is not just music. It's a way of life. It's part of our
culture. We grew up with it and we will die with it."
"I think salsa is tremendously alive," says Albert Torres, a Los
Angeles-based promoter who travels around the world organizing salsa
festivals. "You go
to the clubs here in L.A. and they're full of new faces. Musicians
like Jimmy
Bosch and the Spanish Harlem Orchestra have new albums out that are
just
incredible. What else do people need to see in order to realize that
this music
is far from dead?"
Still thriving
In artistic terms, at least, salsa is definitely far from moribund.
An umbrella term that encompasses a number of Cuban-based dance
formats such
as the guaracha and the son montuno, the music known today as salsa
experienced an artistic and creative peak in New York City during the
'60s and '70s
by combining Afro-Caribbean roots with the electrifying swing of big
band jazz
and a hint of gritty R&B. From New York, salsa spread all over the
Americas,
particularly in Colombia and Puerto Rico.
Although some of the genre's biggest artists are no longer with us
(Tito
Puente, Celia Cruz and singer Hector Lavoe, to name a few), most
continue
touring and releasing albums.
This year saw the release of excellent new collections by veterans
such as
Puerto Rico's El Gran Combo and La Sonora Poncena; Colombia's Joe
Arroyo,
Fruko y sus Tesos, Grupo Niche and Son De Cali; and Venezuela's Oscar
D'Leon.
Ruben Blades, salsa's most talented songwriter, also returned to the
genre
that made him famous by collaborating with the Spanish Harlem
Orchestra, a
collective of notable session players. And trombonist Jimmy Bosch
continues on a
crusade to resurrect the hardcore sound of the '70s on his third
album, El
Avion de la Salsa, aided by the stunning vocalizing of Ecuadorian
singer Ray
Bayona.
Commercially speaking, salsa still boasts its share of viable artists,
namely Marc Anthony, Victor Manuelle and Gilberto Santa Rosa. But it
cannot
possibly compete against the regional Mexican field, which dominates
Latin music in
this country.
"The groups that you mention are fine, but salsa as we know it is a
vertical
niche," says Bruce Polin, owner of Descarga, a New York-based
mail-order
service that specializes in hard-to-find Afro-Caribbean music.
"There is nothing wrong with niche markets, and my business is
certainly
based on that model. But the days of chart-busting salsa appear to be
gone."
Late '70s
Those long-gone days of alleged chart busting salsa were the late
'70s, when
the New York-based Fania label (think of it as the Motown of salsa)
monopolized the market with seminal recordings by the likes of
Blades, Cruz and
Willie Colon. Blades' 1978 masterpiece, "Siembra," became the genre's
best-selling
album, a record it held for a long time. (Due to the proliferation of
mom-and-pop stores that cater to the Latino community, it is
difficult to tabulate
exact figures for old tropical music recordings.)
"Back then, I would go and buy the latest Fania album every week,"
recalls
Torres, who lived in New York at the time. "I would spend every penny
I had on
the new LP by Hector Lavoe or Johnny Pacheco."
Still, many insiders believe the salsa explosion of the '70s is
heavily
idealized when it comes to actual sales figures.
"I'll even go further and say that salsa in its '70s heyday was a
marginal
market in the overall music industry," offers Descarga's Polin.
"A few labels like Fania did well, but perhaps only because they paid
their
artists nothing. Most of those guys -- and I'm talking great talents
-- had
day jobs. Try developing an artist today and pay them fairly. See how
far you
get."
"There's a huge misconception about salsa," Mangual says. "It was
never a
big moneymaker. Maybe two or three artists did well, like Blades,
Celia Cruz
and Tito Puente. But even Celia didn't sell that many records to
begin with.
She was famous for her shows. In fact, I think salsa sells more now
than it did
before, especially in South America. There are more salsa groups in
Colombia
than in Puerto Rico these days. This music is sacred to them."
Old formulas
Detractors of contemporary salsa decry the music's reliance on proven
old
formulas that have remained pretty much unchanged for the last three
decades.
Indeed, most of the previously mentioned salsa albums released in 2004
deliver the carefully calibrated elements that die-hard salseros
expect to find in
their music: over-the-top brass riffs, flavorful piano lines and a
rhythmic
crescendo that builds up to an explosive chorus and forces you to get
up and
dance.
"There's a lot of recycling going on," Mangual admits. "The new Jimmy
Bosch
album may have original compositions, but most of them are based on
old
numbers from the '70s. I respect the new bands like Colombia's Sonora
Carruseles,
though. At least they're trying to keep the old spirit alive."
The new album by powerhouse D'Leon is a good example of this
tendency. His
first release as part of a new deal with Sony, the collection is
titled "Asi
Soy" -- "This Is The Way I Am."
It signifies a comeback of sorts for the singer because it returns to
the
formula he exploited with huge success during the '80s: exuberant
singing, a
strong Cuban influence on the arrangements and the inclusion of
soulful boleros
(at which he is particularly adept) to create a punchy contrast with
the
fast-paced numbers.
"Artists like the Spanish Harlem Orchestra and the Buena Vista Social
Club
appeal to our need for nostalgia and retro inclinations," Polin says.
"It also
happens to be great music, but that's tangential."
Tangential or not, salsa will continue to blossom as long as new
generations
of listeners fall under its spell.
"I don't have enough hours in the day to honor all of the requests I
get,"
says Torres, whose 2005 agenda includes organizing salsa congresses in
Australia, Bulgaria, Japan and a dozen other countries.
"If something is dying, then why does it keep growing every day?"
"Is salsa dead? Depends on who you ask," Polin says. "I can say it
is, but
so what? So is jazz, good food, good theater. That doesn't mean it's
not worth
seeking out."
Want to try some salsa? Here are 8 albums to get you started
Eddie Palmieri: Azucar Pa'Ti (1965, Tico)
A visionary keyboardist, Palmieri has done it all: old-fashioned
salsa,
thorny Latin jazz, dissonant experimentation. His grooves are
devastatingly
intense. His choice of singers, impeccable. This one includes
"Azucar," one of the
quintessential Afro-Caribbean anthems of all time. Sticky indeed.
Celia Cruz and Johnny Pacheco: Celia & Johnny (1974, Vaya)
the poppy sounds of Cuba's Sonora Matancera and a stint with
bandleader
Tito Puente, Cruz graduated into the school of hard salsa on this
exuberant
date with Dominican flutist Pacheco. The tribal "Quimbara" says it
all: pure,
joyous Afro-Cuban fever.
Hector Lavoe: De Ti Depende (Fania, 1976)
The singer of all singers, Lavoe died of AIDS in 1993 at age 46. He
left
behind a legacy of stunning albums recorded for the Fania label -- the
heart and
soul of the entire salsa movement. Produced by his best friend, Willie
Colon, "De Ti Depende" includes "Periodico De Ayer," an epic tune
marked by
Lavoe's rootsy interpretation, Tite Curet Alonso's bitter lyrics and
the fusion of
a tropical combo with a classically trained string ensemble -- yet
another
one of Colon's brilliant innovations.
Ruben Blades: Siembra (Fania, 1978)
the disco-salsa pastiche of "Plastico" to the anthemic "Pedro
Navaja,"
this is the album that showcased Blades as a socially conscious, darkly
humorous singer/songwriter for the ages. The savvy production work of
trombonist
Willie Colon adds a visceral feel to the procedures that would be
absent from
subsequent Blades albums.
Oscar D'Leon: 15 Exitos (Top Hits, 1996)
A superb compilation from the Venezuelan sonero, including the
immortal
single "Lloraras" performed with his '70s group, La Dimension Latina.
This is
rustic, no-frills salsa, heavy on the nasal choruses and trombone
riffs. Those
jazzy piano solos are courtesy of D'Leon's former keyboardist, the
incomparable Enrique "Culebra" Iriarte.
Grupo Niche: A Golpe De Folklore (PPM, 1999)
Vilified by purists, this Colombian group has been churning out hit
singles
for the last 20 years under the leadership of prolific songwriter and
producer Jairo Varela. A lesser known but remarkably funky session,
"Folklore" was
recorded just before singers Willy Garcia and Javier Vasquez jumped
ship and
formed their own combo, the successful Son De Cali.
Joe Arroyo: El Baile Del Siglo (Discos Fuentes, 1999)
Only a two-disc set of hits can do justice to this chocolaty-voiced
Colombian singer and an extensive career that includes stints with
groups Fruko y sus
Tesos, the Latin Brothers and his own outfit La Verdad. Arroyo, who
began
performing at age 10 in the brothels of his native Cartagena, favors
a mix of
Cuban rhythms, Colombian folk and Caribbean stylings such as calypso
and
compas. The result? His own genre, the bouncy joe-son.
El Gran Combo: 40 Aniversario (BMG Latin, 2002)
Puerto Rico's salsa institution celebrates 40 years of uninterrupted
activity on this sprawling two-disc set with plenty of medleys and a
couple of
illustrious guest vocalists. This is highly danceable stuff, of
course, but it
also exhibits the frothy elegance that defines most Puerto Rican
salsa.