The following is a response by Elena Martínez, City Lore, to a review of the book, From Afro-Cuban Rhythms to Latin Jazz, in the Journal of Folklore Research Reviews (06/23/09). Click here to read the original review.
After reading the review posted on June 23rd for the book, From Afro-Cuban Rhythms to Latin Jazz,by Raul Fernández, I felt I had to comment—not just on the book—but the review as well. Actually it really wasn’t a book review that was posted but just an ode to Latin music itself, without any real critique of the book’s contents. I initially read this slim volume long before I saw the posted review. I found it had some good points about the history of the music and some nice biographies (though they are not very analytical, they are basic accounts of the musicians’ lives and careers) of the very few musicians the author chose to write about, but I did have some other problems with the book.
First, it is too bad it is such a short book because the history of the many genres of Cuban music alone could take up many volumes. But the initial chapters have a general overview of the history. However, in the post the reviewer highly regards the “discussion” of “sabor” and what Fernández calls “the gustatory imperative” of the music—a connection between food and music. Though there isn’t much there to discuss. Fernández just lists a bunch of songs that have food-related words in the titles and mentions how Celia Cruz likes to yell out “¡Azucar!” (sugar) at her concerts as proof of the music’s sensuousness. While I feel the connection between food and music is a valid point and needs to be discussed, there is no depth to the topic here. Food jargon is not unique to Latin or Afro-Cuban music. African-Americans have “soul food” and “soul music” and perform on the “chitlin circuit” similar to the “cuchifrito circuit” of Latin music. Jazz can be “cooking” and hip hop has “flava.” Maybe a more relevant discussion connecting food and music might be what role they both play in the lives of new immigrants or as a way many people come into contact with new cultures—as an exploration of the senses—taste, movement, sound, etc.
My main problem with the book, though, is that it really doesn’t decide what its central topic should be. Fernández states, “My goal. . . is to introduce the reader to the complexity and richness of Cuban dance music and to the thick webs that connect it. . .to Latin jazz and to salsa” (xi); and “The second part of this book focuses on the labor of those musicians. The activity of an entire generation of Cuban musicians . . . was significant in the expansion of Latin jazz into a separate genre and for the increasing popularity of Cuban rhythms in general” (62). This being said, it seems like the musicians he chooses to explore are all important but for different reasons, so his choices seem to be quite arbitrary. These musicians are bassist Israel “Cachao” Lopez; trumpeter Alfredo “Chocolate” Armenteros; vocalist Celia Cruz; and five conga players—Mongo Santamaria, Armando Peraza, Francisco Aguabella, Carlos “Patato” Valdés, and Cándido Camero, who Fernández states are “five foundational percussionists of modern Cuban music and Latin jazz” (xi).
Fernández seems to want to focus on Latin jazz as a culmination of this music, yet he chooses Chocolate, a típico trumpeter player and Celia Cruz, a vocalist known for her role in salsa as an amazing sonera (improviser) who can hold her own against any male vocalist, and an exciting guarachera, singer of the Cuban song-style of guarachas. It is beyond a stretch to connect her to Latin jazz. The author states her popularizing of salsa propelled all of Afro-Caribbean dance music—the foundation of Latin jazz—to a world stage (160). If that is the case he wants to make, then that role should go to Tito Puente, who straddled both worlds of Afro-Cuban dance music and Latin jazz and became internationally recognized for both.
But it seems that Fernández really wants to focus on Cuban musicians only, as well as those who took part in the Smithsonian Jazz and Latino Music Oral History Program. Okay, so if we accept that as the premise behind the biographical selection for the book, it seems strange that Mario Bauzá would not have been included, as he is considered the “godfather” of Latin jazz for his work as the musical director with Machito and his Afro-Cubans. But Mario is given only a passing reference in the book. There are other Cuban musicians who are extremely significant to the formation of Latin jazz and who are never mentioned at all in the book such as composer Chico O’Farrill.
As for the percussionists, Fernández states their chapters “are devoted to five foundational percussionists.” If the book is only emphasizing Cubans, it seems there needs to be a biographical sketch of Chano Pozo, for his collaborations with jazz legend Dizzy Gillespie, and his co-authoring of the Latin jazz standard, “Manteca.” If the book wants to emphasize foundational drummers in general, then, as I stated above, one cannot leave out Tito Puente, who revolutionized the way the timbales functioned in Afro-Cuban music, and is described by Mario Bauzá as having “done more for Afro-Cuban music than any other musician in its history”; or Ray Barretto, who rivals Cándido Camero in the amount of jazz recordings he has taken part in as a conga player.
I disagree with some details throughout the book: e.g., it lists Peraza as the first congüero from Cuba to settle in the U.S., when actually it was Cándido Camero. Cándido came here on July 4th, 1946, months before even Chano Pozo, and though he traveled often on tour with groups, he considered the U.S. his home then (personal communication). But my main problem with the book is the arbitrariness of its biographical choices, as well as its lack of a clearly stated thesis—is it a review of significant Cuban musicians who settled in the U.S. or those who figured into the evolution of Latin jazz? For a better overview of Latin jazz and its practitioners—historical and contemporary—I suggest Fernández’s companion book to the Smithsonian Institution’s exhibit of the same name, Latin Jazz: The Perfect Combination (2002).
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[Review length: 1055 words • Review posted on August 20, 2009]