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THE BEGINNINGS OF "SALSA"

Article by Angelina Puente and Victoria Tarova (Interviews October 2009 and January 2010)

 

"Salsa," a universal term used to represent Latin music and dance, is said to have been formed because of division in the live Latin music scene in New York City during the 1960's; this division is still in full-effect 40 years later.

Although Latin dancing is no longer made up of the same texture that it once was, its current form is as a result of the basic fundamental modifications it underwent. These changes in the music stem from a combination of influences, for example,  Rock-and-Roll - which was in full swing across the west during the 1960's, and the commercialization of Latin music for economic gain.

"Before that night in the Bronx in '65, we musicians loved playing this music that our dancers loved," shared Nestor Torres who a pianist for the Tito Puente Orchestra, and for groups featuring Kako Bastar, and also Mongo Santamaría.

 

"Even though we were paid for our work, it wasn't about the money as much as it was about the togetherness that we felt as musicians and dancers," Torres said. "There was something there during rehearsals and it became an energy that kept us playing this music for hours," he shared in an interview while at the Johns Hopkins University after receiving an award for his contribution to Latin-American cultural education.

"Salsa," according to Torres and also according to Chuco Valdéz - who recorded with Arsenio Rodriguez in Cuba and in New York, symbolizes separation because it divided friends and it robbed stellar musicians the opportunity to continue playing together. Valdéz was a sit-in member of Johnny Pacheco's orchestra that 1965 evening.

"It was the death of our hearts, and the birth of vanity," said Valdéz (translated from Spanish). "You could see it in our faces that night. I never played with Pete El Conde again, or Pacheco, or Patato - and I loved them all. They were stellar musicians and they were my friends but our hearts died that night," (translated from Spanish) Valdéz said during an on-camera interview with film producer Josué Joseph of the "La Época" films.

Torres explained the incident which he and Valdéz said took place one evening in May 1965 in the Bronx, N.Y., "The club had more dancers than usual that night. Dancers were there because Arsenio's group was playing, and Pacheco's group was on the same billing after us with Tito Puente." Torres, 79, a seemingly shy man, continued, "After our first set, I walked with Kako outside the back and behind us were Arsenio and Quique. Arsenio's brother (Raúl) was feeling sick - he asked to leave - Arsenio asked Tito Puente to fill in for Raúl. Everything was set. It was supposed to be one of those good evenings."

He continued, "We walked back for our second set and Mangual was going over the chart with Puente - they played that section just a couple of times because it wasn't easy that part - not even for Puente because the rest of us had rehearsed it already. Puente asked Arsenio to signal the change that we made to the chart and Pacheco leaned in from the side and says that the problem isn't the chart but it's that the conga and the bass are playing too many notes," he explained.

There aren't many musicians still living who are fortunate enough to say that they knew Arsenio Rodriguez and played with him. Even musicians who did not play with him but had seen him performing have said that Rodriguez was a man who was self-confident and demanding; he expected others to keep up with him even though few could. "Arsenio always was short with his words, and he had little patience for people's mistakes," Torres said.

"I didn't ever see Arsenio angry before then. That night he was. At Pacheco he yelled just 2 words, 'Es mio!' ("This is mine!") - and that was it," said Torres. "All the musicians heard it and we all stopped and looked at each other. Puente told me later that Arsenio was protecting his brother Quique because Quique was known to be short-tempered and Arsenio wanted to keep his brother out of trouble. It was a lot going on there," he shared.

 

Valdéz said that Pacheco often talked of how he thought he could make Rodriguez's music easier for other musicians to play before that evening, but that he hadn't ever, to his knowledge, actually expressed it.

"Quique had a bad temper and I remember none of us said anything - we were all - all of us were confused - why this was happening - why Pacheco would say this. But, Quique remarked to Pacheco, 'Don't tell us how to bake our cake because we have different ingredients.' Tito took Pacheco behind the stage to mediate," Valdéz said. (translated from Spanish).

"From then," said Valdéz, "Pacheco and Arsenio stayed separate and so did the rest of us because our bands didn't play together anymore. We were making music for love before then. But, then, it stopped. We lost our friends."

According to Torres, Rodriguez and his brother wrote a song titled Kiko Medina about the incident later that year in 1965, with lyrics that say, "I don't play like a boy, so why do you disrespect me?" Then, in 1966, Pacheco wrote a song in response called La Esencia del Guaguancó where he inserted the following lyrics, "Con Pacheco no hay quien pueda; es el rey del guaguancó" - translated into English says, "With Pacheco there is no one that can keep up; he's the king of the guaguancó."

"Quique, just after Christmas of that same year, told me about Kiko Medina and he explained to me that it is a Congolese dialect; Kiko and Medina are words of insult and that they matched the syllables to Pacheco's name - 2 syllables for Johnny and 3 syllables for Pacheco," said Torres.

 

La Epoca - The Palladium Era, to date the only film to solidify confirmation from industry pioneers, including "Cuban Pete" - a Palladium dance legend and Charlie Rodriguez - a musician of the orchestras of Johnny Pacheco, Pete "El Conde" Rodriguez, and Larry Harlow - that the creator of rhythms such as mambo, guaguancó and son-montuno was Arsenio Rodriguez. Other films have danced around - eluding mention of who invented such rhythms - but not one film could substantiate such claims of history. Joseph, who produced the film, said that this division is the inspiration behind his productions.

Today, the division in the Latin music and dance scene seems to be commercialists versus old-school purists; commercialists prefer the format created by Fania Records with legendary salsa recording artist Johnny Pacheco though purists prefer old-school style Latin music which is the format of percussion-heavy music such as that of Beny Moré, Israel "Cachao" Lopez, and Arsenio Rodriguez. There is no question, according to Torres, that there is a distinct difference in the fundamental structure of these two formats of music.

"You could hear Pacheco changing the music," Valdéz said. "He started taking instruments out, and it still sounded good, but it was different after that - missing something. He formed Fania with our musician friends but he took Arsenio's music, removed certain things, and he called it 'salsa.' Pete El Conde was a gentleman who wanted to continue playing with us but it wasn't allowed. We all suffered this loss," said Valdéz (translated from Spanish).

Joseph added that "Salsa" is Latin music minus the guiro, maracas, clave sticks, saxophone, and with a changed bass pattern. He said, "Today's Latin music lacks the emotional input of musicians that it once had, with some exceptions."

Valdéz agreed. He said that "with Arsenio, and with Aragón and Chappottín, the bass played 8 notes per every 2 4-beat counts. It played from the And of the of the 2 and it ended on the last beat of the second 4-beat count. But, it was changed - it was condensed to only 4 notes per every 2 4-beat counts and the reason for this is because that style of bass-playing makes pianists and other musicians unsure of themselves and their own timing in the music."

Music, like every language, has a structure; its structure is based on intervals and mathematics.

Joseph said, "Just imagine a melody with only 4 notes versus a melody with 8. There's a lot more that can be done with 8 notes than just with only 4, especially since many of these songs from back then are just re-arranged and re-recorded in present day; it gets pretty boring hearing the same 4 notes over and over again as opposed to hearing 8 notes that can vary each time."

"That is the element that set Tito Puente, who wasn't Cuban by the way, apart from all others," added Valdéz. He said,

"Tito knew how to apply that element and he kept it in his music. When you hear Tito Puente's rearrangements of Arsenio's music, it has an authentic sound. That's the sound; the element. Not so with Pacheco or any other group. I'm at the end of my life so I can say these things because I was there when all of this went on. Pacheco condensed that style of playing but maybe I could use the word restricted. This new format is a restriction; it restricts musicians, and if it does this for musicians then it does the same for dancers. It is not the same. No guaguancó from Fania has ever included the African element of the guaguancó by its creator - Arsenio. Ever. That music was created with our hearts and when you take away from the music you are taking away from our hearts." (translated from Spanish).

Joseph noted, "I think that it's important to note that there's nothing wrong with the whole umbrella thing with 'salsa.' I don't want to minimize Pacheco by any means; he's an accomplished and an award-winning recording artist."

Valdéz agreed. He said, "I loved him (Pacheco). He was my friend. He is a creator. He helped many to become musicians after us. By creating 'salsa,' he lowered the standards of the music to make it easier for more musicians to play." (translated from Spanish).

Joseph added, "In my first film, a trumpeter named Chiripa said that any musician or orchestra that didn't play at the Palladium wasn't a musician and wasn't an orchestra. Pacheco created a market where musicians who couldn't keep up with Machito, Arsenio, Tito Puente, or Tito Rodriguez or Cortijo - that they could still play and have fun. He's a hero to many, many people and rightfully so."

Valdéz said, "But, our loss can't be understood by anyone who didn't experience what we went through. Our loss could appear as bitterness to some, but unless you can find me a younger musician today who can play a guaracha or a guaguancó - unless you can keep up with me - and I'm 83 and they can't keep up with me - then our loss can't be understood." (translated from Spanish).

He added, "That timbalero was my right hand. That singer was my left. That bass player was my right foot. Losing our friends was like losing our limbs. We're not bitter - just lonely. You can't keep playing domino's with a player who you have to always teach to play; at some point you want to play with someone who can match your skills and challenge you. Musicians today are very good for what they know - but they don't know what we know." (translated from Spanish).

Perhaps, one day, the division between tradition and evolution can be exposed and valued.

Valdéz, who is in the last stages of inoperable cancer, said that music is what has kept him on this earth, and says that his dreams bring back music so intensely  that at times he thinks he's died and gone to heaven to see his friends but when he wakes up he realizes he was only dreaming. He said he's cried himself back to sleep countless times.  He lives a quiet life just north of Charlotte, North Carolina.

Torres, who retired last year from Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland, past away on December 26, 2009. Only 12 attended his funeral; only one was a musician friend who knew of his contributions to Latin music.

Joseph was at the home of Valdéz when both Joseph and Valdéz were  interviewed. Joseph is the son of "Alfonso el Panameño" who Valdéz remembers affectionately as "Panamá" - a bassist he says he met in the orchestras of Arsenio Rodriguez and Hector Rivera.

 

 

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