Boukman Eksperyans, "Kalfour Danjere"

Boukman Eksperyans
"Kalfour Danjere"
Island/Mango (1992)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

First of all, the Boukman Eksperyans didn't think "how can we avoid sounding exactly like Bob Marley" when they recorded "Kalfou Danjere." Or at least, probably not. The band just has the unfortunate distinction of being from a country (Haiti) that shares relative geography, ethnicity and political situation with Jamaica. Unfortunate because the group's music is automatically compared to the iconic Marley, rather than considered for its independent merit.

Admittedly however, the Beaubrun siblings listened to Marley and appreciated his musical statements against tyranny in Jamaica, a nation just a short stretch across the Caribbean from Haiti. Haiti, in case you don't read the news, is constantly awash in political turmoil and general poverty, both now and when the Beaubruns formed the Eksperyans in 1978. In 1991, things reached a head when Bertrand Aristide was ousted as President and the band left the country. The group "took advantage" of the upheaval and released "Kalfou Danjere," or "Dangerous Crossroad" in 1992 to mark the tenuous nature of the situation.

So what does the group have in common with Marley, aside from circumstances? Just a little. Both groups combined modern instrumentation, such as electric guitars and bass, with traditional percussion. Marley often handled vocals by himself, but would use a call-and-response method on occasion. Eksperyans engages in the vocal approach almost exclusively, with Theodore "Lolo" Beaubrun or his sister Marjorie "Nola" singing lead, and the chorale of instrumentalists responding. The method makes sense for political music; it gives the impression of a protestor rallying the collective.

I admit, I don't know much about what's happening in the lyrics, as they're all delivered in Haitian Creole. It doesn't take a linguist to figure out the feelings behind the title track however. The percussionists drum aggressively and the group chants display an unmistakable urgency. Nothing about this song was meant for a club, but your head will bob as if you're listening to a hip-hop thumper. An aspect unique to Eksperyans' music is the incorporation of traditional Haitian vodou music elements. Again, I don't know anything about voodoo, but I like to think (based only on my stereotyped ideas of the religion) that the chanting represents the vodou element. Despite being more than 9 minutes in length, "Kalfou" features no breakdowns or jams. This is a group on a mission, and it won't be distracted.

One more aspect that strikes me about Boukman Eksperyans is that it sounds more African in its instrumental approach than The Wailers. Both Jamaica and Haiti are nations with significant African ethnicity, but while reggae revolutionized the "skank" riff style, Eksperyans sounds very similar to the obstinato of Afrobeat (as we saw with King Sunny Ade). The bass guitar follows suit, mimicking the rhythms of the modern music of the old continent.

As I said, I didn't pick up much of the political discourse here, but I think the band speaks for its worth just fine through its playing.

INTERESTING FACT: "Boukman" serves as homage to Boukman Dutty, a revolutionary who launched the Haitian slave rebellion in 1791. It's documented that he celebrated a vodou ritual prior to the uprising in, which Pat Robertson would later call a pact with the devil in return for success. According to the all-knowing Robertson, this is why Haiti is always getting rocked by natural disasters. The "Eksperyans" part is a reference to Jimi Hendrix's band, spelled-out in Creole speak.

Tito Puente, "Dance Mania"

Tito Puente
"Dance Mania"
BMG (1958)
1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die + 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

In a recent blog for a more legitimate publication, I described Slayer's Dave Lombardo as being special for the sense of groove he brought versus other metal drummers, and cited his Cuban heritage as a cause. My editor couldn't hear it.

EDITOR: "I don't hear any groove. All I hear is noise." ME: "It's all relative. I didn't mean he played like Tito Puente."

Tito Puente is Puerto Rican, not Cuban, but he established himself as a monster of groove playing the Cuban genres of Cha-Cha and Mambo, on classic albums like "Dance Mania."

Puente's main instrument was the timbales, a drum set that looks deceptively simple: two shallow dreams tuned high, often coupled with a cowbell. We've looked at half a dozen records that revolve around Latin American percussion sections. It's easier to understand how a guy like Ray Barretto leads a band. Congas are big and resonant. Timbales aren't appreciated so much for volume, so Puente must be doing something right.

I think the best places on "Dance Mania" to find appreciation for Puente, and his whole rhythm section for that matter, are the mambos. No disrespect to the cha-chas: All these are songs built for dancing and require strong rhythmic lines, but mambos allow for much more complex and creative beats. This makes them tougher to dance with, but more awe-inspiring from an instrumental perspective. Check out "3-D Mambo." The rhythm section seems to be on a different wavelength than the trumpet and melodic instruments. When the following track, cha-cha "Llego Mijan," starts up, it sounds like a rest for the band after the previous song.

Admittedly, it takes focus to pinpoint the guy leading the band, due to the number of instruments taking cues from him. "Mi Chiquita Quiere Bembe" makes it a little easier, thanks to Puente's increased attention to the cowbell function from his instrument. For those longing for a solo to demonstrate his talent, listeners will have to make due with his impressive vibraphone skills during "Hong Kong Mambo." This song begs the question, who's playing the timbales if Puente's manning the vibraphone?

As we've seen, New York City generated a wave of phenomenal percussionists. Choosing one that's best is an unlikely task, even with the huge variety of drums they specialized in.

INTERESTING FACT: "Dance mania" is a term used frequently, but it refers to a real malady. "Dancing mania" was rampant in Europe nearly 600 years ago. For reasons unknown, groups of people, sometimes numbering in the thousands would break out in bizarre dances. Although probably not a physical illness, scientists describe it as a "mass psychogenic illness." Basically, peer pressure forces people to do things without them realizing it.

Rubén Blades & Willie Colón, "Siembra"

Rubén Blades & Willie Colón
"Siembra"
Fania (1978)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die + 1000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die

As is mentioned in 1001 Albums, salsa doesn't get the credit it deserves for being an American genre. Tom Moon is among those at fault when he categorizes "Siembra" by Rubén Blades and Willie Colón as "World (Latin)." There's no question that salsa is Latin; but what kind of Latin is it? It derives most of its qualities from Cuban roots, but it developed in the United States, among many ethnicities. Fania, the New York City label that released the album, never claimed to be based on any particular ethnic group. Dominican Johnny Pacheco drew from the city's diverse Hispanic populations and made Fania the biggest label in Latin music. Blades is Panamanian, and Colón is Puerto Rican. And that's really the point of "Siembra."

If you've never lived in New York, you cannot comprehend the cultural differences that exist between Latin American ethnicities. It seems the only common denominator is the Spanish language. But during Fania's golden age, most shared a common story. Much like today, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, Mexicans and other Latins came to New York City looking for work and the American Dream, which of course they found to be tough. Blades recognized the similar themes, and wrote it into "Siembra," using images of various Latin American babies as cover art to call for unification. The opening track, "Plástico," might sound more like disco with it's funky bass groove, but Blades ends the song with a role call of Latin American nations, urging them to unite, "like Bolivar dreamed of," (in Spanish, of course).

There's plenty of criticism aimed at American culture ("Plástico" refers to commercialism), but the mood isn't one of revolution. Blades aims to demonstrate the similarity between cultures as a method of uniting the various ethnicities against common problems, which to this day include low wages and poor housing. He melds bits of urban folklore from multiple nations into the mini-epic "Pedro Navaja," a song using the recognizable themes of Bobby Darin's "Mack The Knife" as a starting point. Like Mack, Navaja (which of course translates to "knife") is a criminal, and his tale is punctuated with hard times and the sounds of sirens, reminiscent of New York City. As the track ends, the background singers mock the famous "I want to be in America" line from "The West Side Story."

Blades has the voice stereotypically associated with "sexy" Latino singers, but his true talent is taking a genre meant for dancing, and making it equally as good for thinking. Even when he doesn't make outright calls for unity (such as in the title track), the range of cultures that are drawn from during the album demonstrates the mixing pot he aimed to create. "Buscando Guayaba" is strongly Puerto Rican, while "María Lionza" references Venezuelan lore.

Sadly, despite the the work done by Blades and Colón (no disrespect meant; Colón is always regarded as the figurehead trombone-player within Fania), understanding and unity have not been reached in New York City. My girlfriend talks about how Mexican students are bullied by Puerto Ricans at her elementary school, and gang violence continues. I think they all need to listen to "Siembra" again, and figure things out.

INTERESTING FACT: A Mexican movie company made a film titled "Pedro Navaja" in 1984, without consulting Blades. It is ambiguous at the end of the song whether the character is killed or not, and the movie presumes that he is. Blades, probably just to be a jerk, recorded "Sorpresas" ("Surprises") after the movie was released, a song that indicates Navaja is alive and well.

Sabu Martinez, "Palo Congo"

Sabu Martinez
"Palo Congo"
Blue Note (1957)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die

I may or may not have made some claims a few posts ago that Machito's "Kenya" would be the last Cuban jazz album that we'd be looking at for a while. Alas, it was not to be, for next up in 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die is "Palo Congo," a Cubop record from New York City conguero Louis "Sabu" Martinez.

Like fellow New York congo player Ray Barretto and vocalist Machito, both of whom we have already looked at, Martinez got his break as a bandleader thanks to his work with a more prominent (and less Latin American) jazz musician. Martinez played with Dizzy Gillespie before releasing "Congo," his debut under his own name, in 1957.

Unfortunately, due to the recent wave of similar albums, there isn't all too much for me to tell you about "Palo Congo." The obvious focal point is, again, the percussion section. Martinez, like Barretto, filters in solos on tracks like "El Cumbanchero," but spends most of his energy keeping the rest of his fellow drummers in line with the beat. An interesting change in pace from Barretto and Machito is that Martinez is both the primary vocalist and bandleader (Barretto kept his mouth shut while drumming, and Machito only complemented his vocals with maracas). The call-and-response style vocals are nothing special however, and the most relevant tracks on "Congo" are instrumentals like "Asabache," which revel in polyrhythm-ania.

Worth mentioning from a music history standpoint is Martinez's bandmate and fellow Gillespie standout, Arsenio Rodríguez. Rodríguez played the tres, a Cuban string instrument similar in nature to a 12-string guitar, on "Congo." The tres features only three sets of double strings (hence the name), creating gentle melodies that are often associated with the Caribbean islands and often mistaken for the ukulele. The instrument is a dud on this album however, filling space that is more than properly occupied by the impressive percussion section.

Rodríguez deserves credit for making this style of music a reality however. For one, he was the first to introduce the conga drum to son montuno (the genre upon which all Cuban dance music is based), and he also added additional trumpets to complete his complex melodies, creating the prototypical "Latin horn section" brought to fame by Herb Alpert and others, in the process. Rodríguez also claimed to have invented the mambo, but this statement is more hotly contested by music experts.

Again, I'm sorry for the seemingly repetitive nature of recent posts. Hopefully this time we'll get a break before the next Cuban entry. But hey, if you like what you've been hearing, check out "Asabache" below and maybe the rest of the album, because it's still a shining example of the "Cubop" genre.

INTERESTING FACT: Interesting facts on Martinez are in short supply, but fans of the film "Christmas Vacation" will appreciate this blip about Rodríguez (and its correlation with Cousin Eddie's daughter Ruby Sue). Rodríguez was blind…as the result of getting kicked in the head by a mule at a young age.

Batacumbele, "Con un Poco de Songo"

Batacumbele
"Con un Poco de Songo"
Disco Hit (1981)
1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die

For those coming off of the recently written entry on Ray Barretto, hold up. Yes, Batacumbele is another Puerto Rican ethnic ensemble. No, it's not just another Salsa outfit. Barretto was a whiz on the conga, but his being raised in America led him to practice a more jazz-influenced sound. Batacumbele and lead percussionist Giovanni Hidalgo not only work in the African polyrhythms present in Puerto Rican music, but they also work in a healthier dose of ethnic tradition than Barretto did.

The central element to the ethnic identity in Batacumbele's music is the Batá drum, a Nigerian instrument brought over to Cuba during the slave trade. This percussion instrument is designed in a similar fashion to a conga, with two heads on opposite sides of an hourglass shape. Batá drums have one distinguishably larger head however. Members of the Cuban Santeria faith used the drums to convey messages to spirits by playing different assigned rhythms. Moon exaggerates the stir caused by Batacumbele in the early '80s for using the instruments in a secular purpose, as the instrument had already been played on Cuban and Puerto Rican radio stations from the '30s onward.

Although the group uses the drum (alongside other traditional percussion instruments, including the conga) in a "profane" manner, Hidalgo and company don't forget the original intent of the drum: to send messages. Whether or not Hidalgo is beating out a message to some spirit is beyond me, but his rhythms take on an essence of morse code during passages like 2:30-3:30 during the track "A La I Ole," and group vocals add to the ethereal feel of a religious ceremony on songs like opener "Se le Ve."

Batacumbele is far from a tribal get-together however. The group incorporates nearly as many jazz instruments as Barretto's group does. The flute, oboe, trombone and piano all take turns on passages throughout the album. Perhaps the most off-putting moment is on "Danzon Don," when the song opens with a regular ol' snare drumroll.

Ultimately, the difference in timbre between a conga and a Batá drum is going to be lost on most listeners. That's alright. A polyrhythm is a polyrhythm, and whether or not you can identify the source is not going to prevent you from shaking your hips to "Con un poco de songo."

INTERESTING FACT: The Batá drum, originally being a sacred instrument, comes with many guidelines for its construction and usage. The head of the drum can only be made with the skin of a male goat or non-castrated deer. Drummers were to wash themselves, pray and abstain from sex in the period leading up to a playing ceremony.

"A La I Ole"

Ray Barretto, "Barretto Power"

Ray Barretto
"Barretto Power"
Fania (1972)
1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die

There are two kinds of leaders: overt and subtle. The overt ones generally get all the recognition; your Roosevelts and your Lincolns, whereas subtle guys like Herbert Hoover are forgotten despite their worthwhile contributions. It's the same way in music. A guy like Eddie Van Halen draws a lot more attention as a bandleader than say, any given rhythm guitarist. Such is the case with conga legend Ray Barretto on the album "Barretto Power."

Salsa music is a lot more like jazz than most give it credit for, with similar instrumental makeup and band structure. But while jazz bands tended to be led by the horn players or pianists, Latin bands are undeniably ruled by the percussionists. Claves and bongos are iconic pieces of Latin percussion, but the conga provides the ideal rhythm anchor because its taut drumhead provides a lower-pitched bass effect than that of a bongo.

It's easy to forget that this is Barretto's band because of all the other instruments in play. The horns rarely get the sort of solos they would get in standard jazz, but rather provide flourishes throughout. The piano makes for a fun groove as the lead on "Right On." But it's important to remember that the tone is being set by Barretto and his conga in the background. Pay close attention, and just like the bass guitar in a rock band, Barretto is plugging away and maintaining the rhythm.

Of course, there's a reason that lead guitarists end up getting all of the attention. A good solo, or even a bad solo, stands out more to the typical listener than even a great piece of rhythm. Admitting this, there are a couple of standalone solos from Barretto throughout the album to give the easygoing listener a good time. Opener "Oye La Noticia" features a strong burst of conga-staccato reminiscent of a metal blast-beat. The last track, "Power" features a full out solo that demonstrates Barretto's power (see what I did there?) on the instrument.

It's worth a little clarification that Barretto himself was not as humble as his role as the leader for his music group. The album's title, and its cover art depicting the artist's head overshadowing his musical minions, as well as his self-titled, Grammy-nominated track "Barretto," indicate that the fellow had quite an ego. Nonetheless, he knew that the background was his place in a recording, and he executed that perfectly.

INTERESTING FACT: Ray's family name is actually spelled "Barreto," but due to an issue with his birth certificate, an extra "t" was added. Why he didn't just go by "Barreto" as an artist, we'll never know.

Bob Marley and The Wailers, "Exodus"

Bob Marley and The Wailers
"Exodus"
Island (1977)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die + 1000 Recordings You Should Hear Before You Die

Bob Marley was always a spiritual guy, but as his career progressed, items of a more metaphysical meaning came to the forefront in his music, slightly nudging political messages to the side. The difference between “Exodus,” his most renowned album, and “Natty Dread,” the last album of his we looked at, is evident. The three year separation between the two albums, and probably his 1976 assassination attempt, had altered his outlook.

Marley of course hadn’t completely forgotten his political beginnings. But writer Michael Woodsworth of “1001 Records” is off base when he refers to side-one as “heavily political.” Political it may be, but heavily? Not so much. Songs like “So Much Things To Say” and “Guiltiness” discuss politics on Earth, but look at the ultimate goals from a religious standpoint. Whereas “Them Belly Full” on “Natty Dread” talks about combating hunger with government overthrow, “Guiltiness” talks of the wicked men in power eating of “the bread of sorrow.” In other words, as opposed to being overthrown, now they’ve got hell to worry about it in Marley’s eyes.

The sound of the Wailers also evolved during the three year gap. Sure, the basic elements of reggae music are there, but some new sounds find their way into the tracks as well. Most notable is the title track, a seven-plus minute song that is interestingly disco in its approach. Guitarist Junior Marvin playing a scratchy riff, an electric organ, horns, and the use of wah-effects add to the feel. Marley’s lyrics however, again focus on very non-disco themes. The song most likely is in reference to the call for people of African descent to return to their native land. Referring to such a journey as an “Exodus” makes it rather religious as well.

Unfortunately, the album is better known for the more stereotypical frat-brother fare, such as the laid back “Jamming” and “Three Little Birds.” These songs are still pretty good, featuring the skank-guitar style typical of reggae, and feature Marley in the relaxed state of mind that he is too often generalized as expressing. “Exodus” combines Marley’s political and spiritual sides nicely, and tracks focusing on these issues are the ones listeners should look for.

INTERESTING FACT: John Grogan, the author of "Marley & Me," named the dog as such after hearing "One Love/People Get Ready" from the "Exodus" album on the radio.

"Natural Mystic" (YouTube doesn't have a single damn original version of "Exodus," so you'll have to deal with this track from the album. It's still pretty good though.)

Bob Marley and The Wailers, "Natty Dread"

Bob Marley and The Wailers
"Natty Dread"
Tuff Gong (1974)
1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die + 1000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die

Bob Marley stands for a lot of things; just ask the typical college student. People see him as icon of Jamaican heritage, peace, drug legalization, and otherwise just relaxing. He wouldn’t be known for any of these things and his face wouldn’t be plastered on dorm walls everywhere if not for the album “Natty Dread.”

It’s interesting that the album doesn’t feature any of the abovementioned except for Jamaican heritage, in the form of his Rastafarian beliefs. Marley was not actively pro-marijuana in any of his music, but the image of him enjoying a joint has persevered. The most interesting contradiction on “Natty Dread” to the modern understanding of Marley is his peaceful demeanor.

Marley was a tremendously influential political figure by way of his music. He never forgot the mean streets of Kingston in which he grew up, and he frequently reminds the listener of how ardent his beliefs are. “Rebel Music” and “Revolution” call for active change, while “Them Belly Full (But We Hungry” ominously reminds governments that “a hungry mob is an angry mob.” Marley veered away from openly suggesting violence, but he lapses in “Talkin’ Blues,” saying that “Cause I feel like bombing a church now, now that you know that the preacher is lying.” Any suggestion that he wasn’t politically influential dries up after learning he survived an assassination attempt (widely believed to be government-organized).

It’s easy to lose the urgency of Marley’s message, considering the musical approach of the Wailers is prototypical reggae: slow ska-style riffs, gentle percussion and Marley’s unhurried voice. Even when Marley urges the listener to get excited on the opening track, “Lively Up Yourself” (as he did when opening concerts with the song), it’s tough to do anything more than sway. Yes, Marley was laid back, but not necessarily because he was trying to be.

References to Rastafarianism come out in the title track, the title a characterization of the religion’s belief system and favorite hairstyle. But the whole album stands as a tribute to Jamaica in one way or another, whether it be a remembrance of youth in its capital (“No Woman No Cry”) or a commentary on the government.

INTERESTING FACT: Many of Marley’s hits are listed as having been penned by Marley’s friends and relatives, such as “No Woman No Cry,” supposedly by soup kitchen operator Vincent Ford. Marley’s wife Rita claims that Marley himself had written the songs but filed them under others’ names because of a contractual dispute with Cayman Records, thereby keeping the label from getting part of Marley’s royalties.