How Cuba put the World to Dance

The Buena Vista Social Club interviews: Sounds and Silences

Overture

Ry Cooder came to Havana to work one idea but returned with another, probably much better one. It was back around 1996, one of those intermediary years in which nothing extraordinary occurs until hundreds of little events come together and result in something totally unexpected. Ry has for some time been working hard in the production of an experimental music album in which musicians from Cuba and Mali will cooperate to create an exceptional fusion of styles. Juan de Marcos González still does not even suspect up to what point he will have to improvise and conjure up something to overcome the paradox of an unforeseen development, because the African musicians will not be coming.

It is precisely that hour in which the loud roar of the masses begins, unflappable against the blasts coming from every type of engine on two, three or four wheels. It is precisely the moment in which the senses vie for domination up to that moment that confirms the victory of the sweet smell of coffee. Once again Cuba awakens with a Spartan litany while de Marcos hurries on his way to the recording studios of the Empresa de Grabaciones y Ediciones Musicales de La Habana where he will once again meet up with some of the master musicians he had previously invited.

Juan Carlos Roque has just about consumed all the available hours of the day and surrenders to yet another peaceful night in Hilversum, with dozens of voices and sounds fighting for the perfect spot in his mind’s jigsaw puzzle. The difference in time between the Netherlands and Cuba is still playing tricks on him, and even though Roque usually dismisses it as homesickness, he clearly now has a feeling —is it a good one— blocking current reality while propelling various thoughts at his journalistic perceptions.

Ry Cooder, an American guitarist and music producer, Juan de Marcos, a Cuban director and music producer and Juan Carlos Roque, director, journalist and radio announcer, are unaware that the next twenty four hours will be pivotal in their lives, and will mark them to the point they will be wrested of any certainty that goes beyond the overwhelming excellence; the incombustible genius of the Cuban musicians that will make up the Buena Vista Social Club ® but this is still all unknown to them.

Interlude

The Cuban musical phenomenon with the greatest audience success, positive reviews and record sales that has yet existed, Buena Vista Social Club, was created by Ry Cooder at breakneck speed under the influence of the spell and high-mindedness with which Juan de Marcos fulfilled a dream of recovering, in a recording, those great stars of the traditional music now eclipsed and forgotten. Since then, the project has served to represent Cuba throughout the world even without the express actions of any Cuban individual or organization, and yet it embodies all of our deepest characteristics. The chords, the perfect harmony, those voices, belong to undeniable ambassadors of yesterday's Cuba, of the Cuba today and, ultimately, to the Cuba of the future.

How to exactly explain that passion and enthusiasm for music provoked by the measures of the Buena Vista Social Club (BVSC) without capturing the moment that its legendary musicians first stepped up to the stage they find themselves standing in today. At this point, more than a few professionals and experts close to the project recognize that a bit of random luck was at the birth of the first recording and therefore the project. It is at this point that Juan Carlos Roque, heeding his journalistic instincts and, after a series of events both hoped for and unintended, along with some fortuitous professional assignments, understands that the nostalgic throb of that day in 1996, contained the destiny of writing this book twenty years later.

Counterpoint

About the BVSC we know of a story told piecemeal from the hundreds of musical presentations this group of talented and experienced musicians has appeared in throughout the world. But, facing the great confusion of sounds, tours and awards, many of the musical pitches that propelled them were smothered. Let us say that the main plot of this story relies on the talents and interpretative genius of the artists, and that the subplots influence, in a very direct way, to a remarkable climax. The nurturing of traditional Cuban music that begat the successful emergence of the Buena Vista Social Club in the world has at its core these subplots yet to be told. How did septuagenarian and octogenarian musicians with diverse destinations converge upon the exact day and place? How was it possible to organize a "conclave of mastersʺ of such caliber in only a week and without prior notice? Was there a planned strategy to get the project to where it is at today? Were the protagonists aware that was a moment of creative communion without precedent? The answers to these questions can only be obtained by interweaving parallel narratives; demystifying the subplots provided by the stars of this story, musicians and singers who unified the secular polyphony of Cuba in a perfect cultural product.

The author shares with us those human stories that do not tell of the millions of records sold, of the documentary by Wenders, nor of the book of photographs, or of the web presence, not even of the proverbial rivers of ink spilled by the international press in positive reviews. The current mainstream's desire for instantly gratifying information is directly opposed to the research processes that give meaning to this book.

For over fifteen years, Roque has followed and sometimes —literally— -persecuted the members of the project in their worldwide travel schedules of appearances, concerts, and press conferences. He has interviewed all the musicians who have formed part of the original project that created the BVSC we know today. The degree of the importance and need for early investigations has unfortunately been realized only gradually, with the subsequent passing of some of its members, whose advanced age has, in turn, proved both a strength and an Achilles heel, as they finally set out on the road to success.

The unifying thread of this testimony begins with the activities of Eli Silvrants, a Dutch specialist in Cuban music, who arranged and coordinated concerts of the Buena Vista Social Club in the Carré Theater in Amsterdam and in Carnegie Hall in New York City in 1998. A year later her instinct and personal acumen led her to Radio Nederland Wereldomroep¹ (RNW) with a concrete proposal, to produce a radio series entitled BSVC: The Road to Success. Juan Carlos Roque, producer and creator of a series of documentaries, was there as witness to and totally immersed into these events as they occurred, turning this process into a portion of his daily fare.

As a result, he has compiled a vast catalogue of musical and oral documentation, many of which are part of the already known radio series. The current edition, however, has the revealing nature of never having been published. These stories have yet to be told.

I must caution. This book is not merely a compendium of interviews; they are conversations, neither improvised nor hasty, with the original participants of the Buena Vista Social Club. They are friendly, social chats, Cuban style, between equals, social encounters conducted "a lo cubano" (Cuban style,) where all preconceived notions are let go so as to of enjoy all parts, spoken as well as silent. The author decided to conduct himself thusly to reach the depths and discover those never revealed truths, relying on his nation of origin, being a steadfast Cuban and a journalist who enjoys a good reputation earned during the years he served as editor of Noticiero Nacional de Radio (National News Radio,) the most popular station for Cuba, Radio Rebelde.

With that endorsement and with commendable people skills, Juan Carlos Roque, transforms dialogues and extracts confessions, deciphers hesitations and uncovers wishes that, despite all the acclaims and the successes, are yet to be fulfilled. He himself has said it is like opening the curtains of a nice but darkened room and letting the sunshine reach into all its corners. Back in the year 2000, armed with passion and patience, he undertook a return visit to Havana to begin this series of interviews. He did not imagine that many of these conversations would start in darkness but end with the radiant noontime sun of the Caribbean. This closeness allowed him to give shape to the ungraspable, to bring clarity as to the reason why, a musical project so truly Cuban was basically unnoticed in the country that spawned it. With the expertise of an all seeing witness, he also lets us understand why and how a mass appeal phenomenon like the Buena Vista Social Club is still capable of seducing highly accomplished musical critics from the most specialized media around the world.

We tend to think that collective thinking is a basic human trait. And it is. Individual truths, however, bring occasional brightness to the collective. If all this is turned into a metaphor, it is how we create real heights and new reaches. In this book, the contextual relationships of each of the intermittent individuals of BVSC make up their own universe. All point to, with a brief beam of light, to the same orbital axis. All subtlety aside, if by the same measure, all recorded answers were issued in unison, we would all clearly hear: Juan de Marcos.

The author's recurring questions provide key insights, as well as the straightforward manner in which each musician responded. Later, of course, we search for the honesty and sense of fair play from a group of artists that facing the end of their careers, and seemingly their lives, were catapulted by a sudden professional and personal resurrection.

You will find the last interview granted by Manuel Licea, known as Puntillita, within these pages. Despite the fact he joined Buena Vista Social Club in later concerts, he carries the same symbol earned by the founders that memorable moment which Wim Wenders immortalized while hallucinating at the skyscrapers of New York with Ibrahim Ferrer. That vision caused me the dichotomous impulse to go to rescue them but to leave them there, forever dreaming.

This book tends to also to go beyond the domestic controversies of a Cuba somewhat in disarray, but full of dignity relying on family and its resilience and how, in every home, no matter who you are, you are offered a sip of coffee along with a certain contagious joy. With this goal, the author leaves behind internal situations now familiar for us Cubans, and deals to thoroughly demystify the stars that eventually reveal them as people.

Despite giving only a few background explanations, the author has taken a respectful manner with which to treat the opinions of his interviewees; yet, the local color permeates the entire book with increasing crescendo. Cuba and its situation is inferred in the introductory notes, in the short passages that tie together the interviews, and in the opinion of expert communicators, whose interjections are made evident in filling in the complex gaps presented by the complexities of promoting Cuban music production and further provide the key voices needed to keep our musical roots moving and stirring inside and outside Cuba.

The author is perfectly aware this is a valuable book, which will sate the curiosity created by the BVSC project, thus the reason why he has intertwined the rhythms, resonance and lyrics of Sones and Boleros within the relaxed tone of the interviews. The author knows firsthand that from an early age in his native land one listens to music everywhere, as an alleviator, to ease the recurring nightmare of tedium; this is why its fact-finding passages are influenced by the socio-cultural and socio-economic variables particular to Cuba.

The creative background in radio and audiovisual production experience of also producer Juan Carlos Roque provide additional specialization in reference to Cuba and its people, to Latin America and to the multicultural relations that give voice to communities and inhabitants of many a remote village and to those magical cities. His activism emerges from deep roots, a specialization, as well as the exercise of a career that he now develops at Roque Media Consulting, a platform from which he propels transmedia projects with the natural flexibility of a narrator of every day to inspiring stories.

Sounds and silences

When Juan de Marcos and Ry Cooder decided to produce those two recordings of traditional Cuban music, they did so without detriment to the sluggish musical industry of the island; but once upon the supersonic train of the global market, all that was left on the ground, began to seem obsolete. So quick was the triumph of the first CD released that in Cuba we only found out of the phenomenon that had become Buena Vista Social Club, when it had already won a Grammy and was featured in a world renowned documentary. Meanwhile, the radio stations would offer on-air explanations to Cubans that —At Last!—we were leaving one of the most complicated eras of our lives, the special period in times of peace, a torturous time of economic crisis and absurd deficiencies. Some media also referred to this period as Option Zero since the majority of material goods disappeared overnight with an amazing finality.

We would ride bicycles because gasoline was scarce; we had such healthy diets that bordered on the hypocaloric. We could not even buy eggs nor fully grown chickens, because some biology expert decided that each family could from then on raise their own at home. You don’t have a backyard patio? Use the balcony, where the sun can shine on them! Store mannequins would stare at us, naked and mutilated from behind display windows, and the ten, more or less, basic food staples were rationed to unimagined extremes. This frenzy of material disappearances began at the start of 1990 as a direct consequence of the fall of the Berlin Wall, a year before the dissolution of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) in 1991. It was overwhelming and expensive to try to obtain the ingredients for any simple recipe. The prices got so high that we could not even see the clouds below.

We would say that things weren’t very Marxist. We would say this under cover, among trusted friends, jokingly and in low volume. When the first four hours of the day had passed, the pace began to change. The Caribbean would get under our skin, in the tones of blacks, mulattos, whites and as many racial subsets derived from unimaginable mixtures and nuances; Chinese, Creole, African, Haitian, Aryans and Celtiberians seething in one body. The first arpeggios of guitars began floating about, and then beats from the bongó drums, followed by chants and rhythms here and there like a scattered orchestra mingled with the thud of dominoes.

The traditional Cuban rhythms would get caught up along with the exuberance of the parsimony of the idle afternoons of the Havana of the nineties. Sheltered in home gatherings, in the early darkness of the Café Cantante at the National Theatre and in the improvised descargas of colleagues of the Son or Filin’. Meanwhile, in Cuban radio and television, the themes were that of: if Van Van, if Dan Den, that if There is always an eye that sees you, that if the Charanga Pa’ que se entere La Habana and that there is a doctor who is called Manolín and that he plays Salsa.

The members of BVSC: did they live well; did they suffer this cultural capriciousness stoically and with moderation? Now, after their deserved if delayed national and international popularity and, in the light of this book, who says that those forgotten musicians were not working amid all this apparent laziness? Moving in unison, without trial or notice, creating rhythmic conjunctions impossible for many westerners and humming metrically with more narrative material than any fairy tale. Improvising, in life and in iTunes —by the minute— of Chan Chan, and that now even Finland and Japan have experienced this celestial splendor at the feet of some elderly angels with guitars, tres and lutes. Thus the very New York City said What a great concert!

Even when all the key staff members of Radio Nederlands traveled to Havana, as a group, together with Juan Carlos Roque who brought along those hunches from 1996 that were then turned into a radio series on Buena Vista Social Club, even by then they had already traveled much of the world.

Who can assure that the Tumba Francesa, Son Montuno, the mixed migrations, the Jazz de ida y vuelta (round trip Jazz) and so many other accidents of a geopolitical tint are oblivious to these patios and courtyards where many young people experiment with rhythms and promise soon to be released smash hits. Or of incorporating fifty years of tradition into a single melody, notwithstanding copyrights; with that spontaneity of ours, so absolutely free that serves as a starting point for many of the revelations this book puts forth honestly, and stewed slowly, while a thousand and one sones are reeled off incessantly for the world.

Mariam Núñez Más

Cuban author and arts administrator

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Quizás, Quizás, Perhaps

Washington, DC.

October 15, 2015

A catchy Cuban tune fills the White House’s East Room. It is Thursday afternoon and the host, President Barack Obama, will enter at any moment. In his presence will be the legendary musicians of the Buena Vista Social Club². As in other occasions, this appearance will be part of the scheduled events of National Hispanic Heritage Month, but this time there will be two new developments: the issue of Cuba will soon be included in the official presidential agenda, and this will be the first group based in Cuba that makes an appearance in Washington DC in more than half a century. Up to this moment only Cuban artists living in the United States —singer and composer Gloria Estefan, trombone and piano player Arturo Sandoval, and singer, producer and composer Willy Chirino— have made appearances in this presidential space commonly used for receptions and formal events.

De Alto Cedro voy para Marcané

Llego a Cueto, voy para Mayarí³.

From Alto Cedro I go to Marcané

I get to Cueto, I head for Mayarí.

The chorus for Chan Chan repeats three times, this the most well-known of the songs composed by Francisco Repilado Compay Segundo (Siboney, Cuba, 1907 – Havana, Cuba, 2003). Tonight, though, it lacks a little bit of the feeling of past renditions of this catchy son as compared to when they would sing it along fellow member Eliades Ochoa. Together, they made this tune a hit since it was premiered at the Carré Theater in Amsterdam in April of 1998 as part of the Buena Vista Social Club project; Later that same year in July, it was performed at Carnegie Hall in New York City. Millions of people hum this tune, and are able to sing and dance to its rhythm.

El cariño que te tengo

Yo