Rubber City Review

Latin boogaloo – one of those great cultural collisions, like fried chicken and waffles or Tiger Woods.

Rooted in Cuban son montuno and bastard stepchild of the Fifties mambo craze, boogaloo combined the driving rhythms of New York City’s Latin dance bands with the attitude and language of black R&B. And it couldn’t have happened anywhere else than in the clubs of New York, where Cubans, Puerto Ricans and African Americans were spending much of the Sixties rubbing shoulders and various other appendages on the city’s crowded dance floors. The best bands and DJs would keep them there by mixing it up, finding common musical threads that just about anyone could appreciate.

In the early ‘60s, you could catch Tito Puente, Machito and other Latin big bands at Manhattan clubs like the Palladium Ballroom, or dance along to DJs spinning the latest records by black artists like James Brown, the Shirelles and Jackie Wilson. And by 1966, these and other influences came together in boogaloo records by Joe Cuba, Pete Rodriguez, Joe Bataan, Willie Colon and the Lebron Brothers, to name a few.

Today, you can’t miss the sounds of Latin boogaloo in night clubs and neighborhood joints throughout the Rubber City. Actually, that last line is complete bullshit. I’m probably the only one in town who has a playlist called “We Got Latin Soul.” And most people in these parts are still a little touchy about records with the name Lebron on them.

To help give you a better sense of what boogaloo (also spelled “boogalu”) is all about, I decided to check in with another lonely Latinophile, Brother James:

“The boogaloo craze only lasted for a few years in the mid to late 60s. Some say it was killed by pressure on venues and booking agents from the salsa guys, many of whom despised it for its simplicity and non-Latin influences. These are some of the very reasons I like it. At its best, boogaloo is a joyous clash of cultures… an honest reaction by young Newyorkinos to the world they lived in. What could be wrong with that?”

Cuban bandleader Mongo Santamaria and fellow conguero Ray Barretto are often credited as originators of boogaloo – Santamaria with his popular version of the Herbie Hancock original Watermelon Man, and Barretto with his street-talkin’ hit El Watusi. Both songs were recorded in ’63, paving the way for the rise of boogaloo in the mid-‘60s. Santamaria’s tune grew out of a fortuitous late-night jam session at a Bronx club in ’62 when guest pianist Hancock, trying to keep things interesting during a slow night, showed Mongo’s band the changes to Watermelon Man. They jumped all over it, and a Latin hit was born: Watermelon Man

Joe Cuba

Early boogaloo hits like Joe Cuba’s Bang Bang and Pete Rodriguez’s I Like It Like That have a wonderfully casual feel to them, like someone ran the tape while the band was playing at an all-night house party. Apparently the kids got to stay up late too – they were needed to sing the chorus on this one: Bang Bang “When I recorded in those days I always left a big boom mike overhanging above all the musicians to put in a little live effect,” said Cuba (“From Bomba to Hip-Hop: Puerto Rican Culture and Latino Identity,” by Juan Flores). And the raucous vibe of these recordings was clearly an antidote to the heavily arranged and orchestrated sound of big-band mambo.

Like many other boogaloo artists, Cuba was born and bred in New York City (in his case, on 116^th Street in Spanish Harlem, where he lived until he passed away in 2009). He had little use for the more rural strains of Puerto Rican music, preferring the popular sounds of swing and R&B that young Latinos were seeking out in the clubs and record stores of Manhattan. So it was only natural for Cuba to write and perform songs in his native American tongue.

The R&B influence is especially clear in one of boogaloo’s biggest hits, I Like It Like That. Chris Kenner scored a hit back in ’61 with an original under the same name, a tune that was especially popular in Kenner’s home base of New Orleans. Rodriguez probably had that song in mind when he recorded his “tribute” some six years later – same title and refrain, different melody and groove. Just for fun, I ran the two songs together on this sample, with Kenner first and Rodriguez following: I Like It Like That (first Kenner, then Rodriguez)

Willie Bobo

A few boogaloo hits were guitar-driven, especially those that can be credited to the forward-thinking bandleader Willie Bobo (aka William Correa).

Bobo also grew up in Spanish Harlem, where he took lessons in Latin percussion from Santamaria. Then at the age of 19 he joined the blazing-hot band of Tito Puente – the king of the timbales – and never looked back. Bobo was a key figure in the mambo craze of the ‘50s, cutting some classic sides with Cal Tjader (Soul Sauce) and Santamaria (Para Ti) before starting his own band in 1963.

I love the way Clarence “Sonny” Henry’s guitar helps set the groove for Spanish Grease, one of my favorite boogaloo numbers. It obviously had a big influence on a young Carlos Santana, who borrowed the song’s refrain for his ’71 hit No One to Depend On: Spanish Grease

Santana’s great respect for Bobo was especially obvious during his band’s live concerts, when they would often throw in a fairly straightforward version of this next number. As you can tell by the title, even boogaloo artists who remained true to the Latin beat looked for every other opportunity to reference African-American culture: Fried Neck Bones and some Home Fries

Even jazzbos got in on the act, and the cultural references in this next number by Clark Terry and Chico O’Farrill are about as thick as you can get. I kept in the whole conversation – a tribute to the importance of interracial harmony and understanding: Spanish Rice

Hermanos Lebron

At this point, you’re probably still asking yourself, who the hell are the Lebron Brothers? In a nutshell: Five brothers of Puerto Rican descent… raised in Brooklyn… groomed for success by Latin music hit-maker George Goldner… recorded a boogaloo classic, “Psychedelic Goes Latin,” in 1967… and, like many Latino acts, got screwed by their manager. The group’s spokesman, Angel Lebron, claims they never got paid for their popular album: “Despite the propaganda that was printed then, the boogaloo bandleaders were the hottest bands at the time. The boogaloo era came to an end when we threatened to rebel…” (Flores). Thankfully, the Lebron Brothers made a successful transition to salsa in the ‘70s. Here’s a fine, funky number they cut in ’71 – sort of a boogaloo/salsa hybrid (with a meaty sax solo to boot): Boogaloo Lebron

By the early ‘70s, boogaloo had been pushed aside by the rise of salsa – mostly fueled by old-school Latino musicians like Eddie Palmieri (who still managed to cook up this Spanish-language boogaloo back in ‘68: Aye Que Rico) and Johnny Pacheco as well as the considerable clout of NYC-based Fania Records. Loose blues and soul-based riffs were replaced with more musically demanding arrangements that looked back at the Cuban tradition. And Sixties slogans like “sock it to me” gave way to Spanish-language musings on life in the barrio, including more overtly political songs by artists like Ruben Blades. In a way, salsa marked a return to the roots of Latin music. But in other aspects, it looked forward to disco – which is especially apparent in some of the highly polished (and often over-produced) records that Fania released in the Seventies: El Sabio/Hector Lavoe

Now I appreciate the sound of salsa as much as the next gaucho. But I’d never argue that the best salsa recordings are in some way superior to my favorite boogaloo songs from the Sixties. And on this key distinction, I’ll give the last word to the good folks at Hyp Records:

“The [boogaloo] trend met with fierce resistance in its heyday, but periodic revivals do occur. The old-guard defenders of ‘roots’ Spanish music are making their peace with it, and general collectors appreciate Latin soul as hip, early, cross-cultural pop – not to be shunned as either bogus Latin or bogus soul. A proud product of New York City, Latin soul reflects ‘the place to be’ in the 1960s and early 1970s.”

Watusi Boogaloo/Willie Rosario and his Orchestra

The Boogaloo sound continues to inspire contemporary acts like Miami’s Spam Allstars and Austin’s Grupo Fantasma. In this next video, the guys from GF turn a PBS telethon into a Latin funk festival:

Brother James is a fine-art photographer based in St. Augustine, FL.  Since 1999, he has had unusual access to the people and places of Cuba.  Often riding in the sidecar of an old Russian motorcycle driven by his friend and fellow photographer, José (Pepe) Martí, James has documented Cuban life in small towns and rural areas few Americans get to visit.  Photos from a trip to Baracoa in 2004 appeared in “Shared Vision,” a cross-cultural project partially funded through the National Endowment for the Arts.  Two of those photos appear in this post, along with others that have appeared in art galleries and traveling exhibits in the U.S. and Cuba.  James provides some context with a little commentary under each image – as well as a few well-placed audio clips, of course.

J.Q.: This photo appeared in the traveling exhibition “Viajeros: North American Artist/Photographers Working in Cuba,” sponsored by Lehigh University.  I took this photo at the only gas station in Baracoa, on the far eastern end of Cuba… sort of a community center/restaurant/local hangout, and one of the few modern buildings in town.

Baracoa is the oldest city in Cuba – Christopher Columbus landed here on his first voyage west – and its remote location helps keep the tourists away.  This is the Catedral Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion, which houses the Cruz de la Parra, a cross that Columbus supposedly brought with him.  Local men hang out on the steps of the cathedral all day, every day, just to shoot the shit.

The eastern part of Cuba gave birth to nengon, a rural style of music and the first form of Cuban “son,” which is the foundation of modern salsa music.  Nengon originally featured the tres – a three-string Cuban guitar used to play drum-like rhythms – as well as the tingotalango, which is sort of a primitive bass.  Here’s a modern version of nengon by Madera Limpia, a band of young musicians from Guantanamo that’s firmly rooted in the Cuban tradition: Nengon/Madera Limpia

I came across this very stylish couple, Wilky and Adelaida, in a bar in Old Havana.  They’re a salsa-dancing duo, well known in Havana for the shows they put on at local clubs.  And they’re always dressed to the nines, even when they’re not performing.  Adelaida is the granddaughter of the great Cuban conguero Chano Pozo, who toured and recorded with Dizzy Gillespie until 1948, when he was killed in a Harlem bar fight at the young age of 33.  Pozo co-wrote Manteca – one of many Latin-based tunes Dizzy recorded over the years: Manteca/Dizzy Gillespie

These two guys are planting tobacco in the province of Pinar del Rio on the western part of the island, the center of tobacco production.  The plants are cultivated in seed beds and then transplanted into the fields by these workers.  This is the high-quality stuff used to make the finest Cuban cigars.  Makes me want to hear the Queen of Salsa, Celia Cruz, sing the praises of Pinar del Rio… Me Voy A Pinar Del Rio/Celia Cruz

Here’s a well-known Santeria priestess in Jovellanos, located in Cuba’s Matanzas Province.  Jovellanos is a center of African culture and religion.  You can see a few African decorations in the priestess’ home.  Her granddaughter faces the pass-through to the kitchen, and a bag of herbs (probably for religious purposes) sits on the chair.  I like the different shades of pink in this shot.

The African influence in Cuba gave birth to rumba, another foundation of modern Latin music.  Rumba is all about percussion and rhythm, as you can hear on this cut from Bara-Rumba, an Afro-Cuban percussionist/dance troupe from Baracoa… Rumba Del Solar/Bara-Rumba

This Santeria priest cleansed me with a live chicken.  He rubbed it all over me and then killed it – supposedly to get rid of bad spirits.  I definitely felt better afterward.  That’s a beautiful piece of folk art in the background.

These two photos show the kind of cars that you typically see in Cuba – usually American models from the Fifties, caked with bondo and multiple layers of paint.  Cubans are very adept at keeping these cars in good working order and will cast parts from scratch if they need to.  The green car was photographed in Baracoa, and I found the red one in Old Havana… There’s no way to tell what the second car was to begin with, because it’s clearly morphed into something closer to a sculpture over the years.  I wanted a picture of the car, but I also wanted the human element, so I waited for someone to enter the frame.  I like how the woman’s pants complement the car.  Can’t find any good Cuban car songs, but here’s a Sixties band from Havana that was heavily influenced by American doo wop and surf guitar – Los Zafiros. Bossa Cubana/Los Zafiros

I took this photo at a bailable, or ball, in Matanzas Province during a festival.  The locals get all dressed up to dance to the danzon, a very formal and orchestrated form of Cuban music that was popular many years ago.  I like the expression on the woman’s face – very dignified… really something from another era.  Here’s an example of a danzon by the great Cuban composer and bassist, Israel “Cachao” Lopez… Isora Club/Israel “Cachao” Lopez

Most ordinary Cubans can’t afford to go into music clubs, so it’s not uncommon for folks to gather outside to listen to the music.  Here’s a mother and son, watching a trovador (Cuban singer-songwriter, or troubadour) playing in a Havana club.  I’ll close with this beautiful clip from a modern-day trovador, Pedro Luis Ferrer… Mariposa/Pedro Luis Ferrer

Dear Tim:  I can appreciate your interest in long-deceased artists, but when are you going to start writing about real living, breathing musicians – preferably those who don’t qualify for AARP?  Also, your posts are too long.  Don’t you know that young folks can only process information in small, twitter-sized bites?  You’re just like your mama Jane, trying to feed people too much in one sitting.  And another thing…

OK, I really didn’t receive this comment.  But I expect to get something like it any minute, so I decided it was time to prove that I have a few songs in my library that were recorded some time after 1972.

Contrary to what my friends think, I don’t listen to dead blues guys on a daily basis (although John Lee Hooker seems to work well on Mondays).  In fact, I practically beg family members – mostly nephew Dan and brother James – to send me recent stuff that would meet my high standards for iPod-worthiness.  Then again, I’m constantly surprised when I shuffle through the 20,000+ songs on my iPod… How the hell did Boxcar Willie get on there?

Based on these and other idle ramblings, I offer you my Top Six Picks (because 10 would be too many) of recently recorded songs that have earned a spot on my “heavy rotation” playlist – and therefore should be required listening in schools and workplaces throughout the nation.

I confess that I didn’t know a thing about Raphael Saadiq before his 2008 release, “The Way I See It.”  I’d heard of his first band, Tony! Toni! Tone!, mainly because it was fun to say.  But now he really has my attention, thanks to the neo-soul groove of 100 Yard Dash.  You could argue that most of “The Way I See It” is just a slavish reproduction of the Motown sound, and I probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight.  But I’ll challenge anyone who questions the integrity of 100 Yard Dash – a song that seems to live in some R&B utopia, far from the land of auto-tune and automated beats. 100 Yard Dash

I had the great pleasure of meeting the Heartless Bastards when they opened for The Black Keys at a couple of sold-out shows earlier this year at Terminal 5 in NYC.  Dan and Pat brought the Big Apple to its knees – but I loved watching the Bastards win over about 5,000 jaded New Yorkers with their relentless, rootsy drive and the powerful voice of little Erika Wennerstrom, the pride of Dayton, Ohio.  James and I were so impressed, we even schlepped their equipment!  Here’s one of two standout cuts on their latest release “The Mountain” (to fully appreciate what these Bastards are all about, play the opening of the title song at maximum volume… after you buy it here, of course).  And credit goes to Pat Carney for hooking up the Heartless Bastards with the Fat Possum label. Out at Sea

How does one describe the Wood Brothers?  Americana?  Too narrow.  Folk?  Nah.  Blues?  A little.  Maybe it’s just a soulful mix of everything that’s right about American roots music – from the Stanley Brothers to Mississippi John Hurt to a hundred other streams running from the same deep river.  It’s hard to believe these two guys hail from Boulder (no offense, Caroline!)… They sound like they grew up in some backwoods cabin in the deep south.  Chris is the bassist for the futuristic organ combo Medeski, Martin & Wood, and Oliver cut his teeth playing in Atlanta blues bands.  Together, they’re a brother band with a bad attitude – and dark secrets that even the Louvin Brothers wouldn’t think of sharing (and they killed the Knoxville Girl!).  “Sometimes the tip of my tongue is the barrel of a gun, and it’s loaded”… I think we’ve all been there. Loaded

You can always count on the U.K. for new rock bands with lots of swagger, like the Duke Spirit.  I just missed their steamy set at one of those mega music festivals earlier this year, but came back home with their new release, “Neptune.”  My teenage daughter quickly ran off with it… but not before I had a chance to sneak this little slice of nasty onto my own iPod, where it seems to live comfortably with Link Wray, Morphine, the Cramps and other masters of menace.  The Duke Spirit’s main attraction is their mighty frontwoman, Liela Moss.  She may owe a small debt to the Rubber City’s Chrissie Hynde, but she makes a very big statement of her own on The Step and The Walk.  The Step and The Walk

My vote for one of last year’s best albums – “With Blasphemy So Heartfelt” by Jessica Lea Mayfield – won some positive notice in the music press, but not as much as I thought it would.  I’d argue that Jessica, who started recording “Blasphemy” at Dan’s Akron Analog studio when she was only 15, is misunderstood by many of her peers.  Her voice is timeless, colored by the deep, lonesome twang of hard country (she started performing with her family’s bluegrass band at the age of 8).  And twang ain’t exactly what the indie nation wants to hear.  I think Jessica is poised for much bigger things… as soon as she finds the right audience.  In the meantime, I’ll just keep listening to this perfect opening to “Blasphemy.”  Kiss Me Again

Latin soul, done right, is a beautiful thing.  Salsa, meringue, Afro-Cuban, rumba, even that funky boogaloo that Fania Records put out in the ‘60s…  I’m no expert on the many forms of Latin music, but I know what I like – and I’m definitely sold on “San Sebastian 152” by Bronx River Parkway.  BRP’s myspace page notes that the project brought the New York-based band together with “a crew of legendary salsa musicians that make their home in San Juan.”  The album was recorded with old-school equipment in a 200-year-old former ballet school in Puerto Rico.  It’s another classic melding of soul and salsa – with the kind of propulsive rhythms that ruled the dancefloors of New York City during the reign of El Rey del Timbal, Tito Puente. Agua Con Sal

Bonus track… This one was sent in from Santa Rosa, CA, where the Aces seem to have a fresh take on the blues (one song ends with a blast of sitar!).  They do it “Hound Dog” style… no bass — just two guitars, a drummer and a pretty fine harp player blowin’ like mad on top.  I’d like to catch these guys at a roadhouse bar on a Saturday night — maybe I should book a flight!  Find out more at acesfan.com. Shed Some Light On Me