Sunday, November 18, 2012

Henry Cole: Drumming For The Spirits of Mama Africa, The Big Apple, and Borinquen

The cover of Henry Cole's new album

Hello dear Bongohead readers. Today on this crisp, sunny winter’s day I’d like to tell you about a hot young artist I rediscovered recently through my friend, film maker Omar Torres-Kortright. I now realize the guy was bubbling just under my consciousness because I happened to have seen him perform with both Miguel Zenón and David Sánchez in past years at various gigs, but then I lost track of his work and so when I heard through Omar that this musician had a new album out, that it had something to do with afrobeat (one of my favorite types of music), and that I would get to be a part of a music and culture festival that this guy was also a part of, well, I got really excited. I was like – is this the same guy I saw drum with those Puerto Rican jazz cats? Honestly, I didn’t even know the man was Boricua himself, not that it’s a big deal, but just to tell you how little I knew. If you stick with me little, I’ll tell you why this dude is worth knowing, and maybe it will inspire you to check out his work like I did…

The gentleman I’m talking about is Henry Cole (b. 1979, raised in Mayagüez, Puerto Rico), and he’s a young New York-based drummer, percussionist and keyboard player with a lot of talent and great ideas. He’s best known for his work with the Grammy-nominated Miguel Zenón Quartet (having recorded on he albums Awake, Esta Plena, and Alma Adentro), Grammy winner David Sánchez (Cultural Survival), and the all-star quartet “90 Miles” featuring Sánchez, Stefon Harris and Christian Scott. He also made waves with the Edward Simon Trio, where Cole’s innovative and powerful drumming takes center stage, but since 2011, he’s been the center of something different, immersed in a larger orchestra, his Afro-Beat Collective.

But let’s back track a bit before we get into his latest solo joint.

Having studied classical percussion at San Juan’s Conservatorio de Musica de Puerto Rico and both Boston’s Berklee College of Music and the Manhattan School of Music in New York, as well as club work in San Juan (“I was playing rock, salsa, jazz, electronic music, all in the same week. That’s college right there…” says the drummer) and varied gigs in La Gran Manzana, it’s easy to see that Cole’s formal and street musical education has been top notch. In Puerto Rico, Cole worked not only within but also beyond the world of improvised music, with artists such as conga master Giovanni Hidalgo, flutist Dave Valentin, trumpeter Jerry Gonzalez, pianist Danilo Pérez, Branford Marsalis, Luis Marin, William Cepeda’s Afro-Rican Jazz, salsa artists La PVC, and the Latino rock band Vivanativa. In New York and on stages around the world, he’s played with a diverse roster of people, further broadening his horizons: Chris Potter, Adam Rogers, Drew Gress, the Chico O’Farrill Afro-Cuban Big Band, Ray Barretto, Orlando “Puntilla” Rios, Papo Vazquez, Perico Sambeat, Paquito D’Rivera, David “Fathead” Newman, Dave Samuels, the contemporary plena group Viento de Agua. Cole’s extensive CV also lists his work with dancer and choreographer Noemí Segarra, which includes the evening-length collaborative piece “De Rumbo De Rumba,” premiered at the Hostos Center for Arts & Culture in early April 2011. Our busy drummer also performs with Cuban-born, LA-based pianist Alfredo Rodríguez, who records for Quincy Jones’ Qwest label. And as if that weren’t enough, as mentioned before, Cole has recorded influential work with Miguel Zenón and David Sánchez — entailing appearances at the Village Vanguard and other world-renowned jazz venues —  and he can be heard on the album Personalities by the Fabian Almazan Trio, as well as Christian X Variations by Soren Moller with Dick Oatts and Kirin Winds, plus El Alquimista by Pete Rodríguez (not the boogaloo artist), and Rocket Science for Dummies by the electro/neo-soul group Astronauts of Antiquity.

OK, so that was the resume. Ahora mis amigos, let’s get into his new album. This CD leads you on a journey of poetry, in sound and word. As you might have guessed by now, Henry’s a guy who consistently thinks outside the box, evidenced not only by his diverse past experiences, but also by his current activities. Right now as leader of the Afro-Beat Collective, he’s engaged in an exciting fusion of improvised music of Black American Origin (which I’ll call jazz for want of a better word) and funk with the folklore of his homeland, plus spoken word vocals, and of course a healthy dose of afrobeat, a well-known and currently re-popularized dance music (with a conscience) of Nigerian origin that came to prominence in the 1970s and was pioneered by Fela Anikulapo Kuti, Tony Allen, Orlando Julius, Ebo Taylor, and others. There are many contemporary groups with the term afrobeat (however you want to spell it) in the band name or bandied about as a description for their sound, and some tend towards the more dance oriented, vocal, and repetitive or commercial end of things, while others are more heavily invested in the jazz end, and so the intricate interplay between heavy percussion and prominent brass seems to leap to the fore (for instance Nomo and Zongo Junction). Henry Cole and the Afro-Beat Collective’s debut album Roots Before Branches tends towards the more improv/jazz end of things, which makes sense, but as mentioned, there is also the Spanish language aspect of the spoken word component (courtesy of Hérmes Ayala) and the use of indigenous Afro-Puerto Rican elements as well. Though it fits in perfectly with the afrobeat sound through a sensitive integration on the part of the arrangements, the undeniable presence of the “barril de bomba” drum and the “panderos de plena” (hand held single-sided skin frame drums), as well as Cole’s adaptation of these rhythms for his drum kit, mark the work as coming from a distinctively Boricuan perspective. Hence the title, “Roots Before Branches”!

In the realm of the ‘branches’ referred to in the title, there is an intriguing use of electronics and dubby sound effects, as well as old-school sounding synths, electric piano and other keyboards that makes me think of vintage funky fusion of the 70s as well as what Fela and his Kalakuta Republic crew was cooking up each night at the Shrine. One thing though that distinguishes Cole’s sound from classic Nigerian afrobeat: there is not really the vocal melodic song structure of Fela Kuti or some of the other Afro-Funk bands of yesterday or today, which is actually refreshing. In a way, I choose to consider Henry’s recording to be another chapter in the Latino-flavored side of afrobeat, carrying on in the trail blazed by Antibalas and Kokolo, two of my all time favorite bands for dancing and thinking. Henry’s now on my radar as being the third corner of this Latino-Afrobeat trinity, and it feels good having him in charge of the angle that completes the trinity. On the CD, Cole employs his friends Miguel Zenón and David Sánchez to great effect, and the collective is augmented by quite a cast: Sean Wayland, Adam Rogers, John Ellis, Soren Moller, Egui Santiago, Rey de Jesús, Roy Guzmán, Bryant Huffman, Billy Carrión Jr., Juan José “Cheito” Quiñones, Willy Rodríguez, Alberto “Beto” Torrens, Luis Rosa “El Chupa”, Obanilu Allende, Adam Rogers, a string trio, and the poet Mara Pastor.

“I imagine Fela’s band with Wayne Shorter or Lee Morgan playing the solos”
—Henry Cole

All in Roots Before Branches is a very satisfying recording, and you can see why Modern Drummer magazine had Cole in an article titled “The Future of Drumming” (January 2006). In that piece, Henry was cited as an outstanding young player to watch by illustrious fellow drummers Alex Acuña, John Riley and Antonio Sánchez. Well, it’s been 6 more years since then, and if Roots Before Branches is any indication, Alex Acuña, John Riley and Antonio Sánchez  were right on the money, compay. I am really looking forward to witnessing ‘the future of drumming’ live in person, as I will be participating in a concert with Henry and his Collective in Chicago (see my earlier post). I know Señor Cole’s gonna be drumming for the collective triangulated spirits of Mama Africa, The Big Apple, and Borinquen. If you can make it, I know you won’t be disappointed. If you can’t, well then please make sure you catch him in New York or on a stage near you in the future — and if you can’t find him there, ask your local talent buyers and booking agents ¿por que? You can check out more about him on his web site (http://www.henrycolemusic.com) and get a signed copy of his CD there too, or on Amazon.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Tropical Music of Peru and Martin Lopez' "Cocinando"





I’ve been following Mike P’s career with his MassTropicas record label since the beginning, when he unleashed the peculiar and totally cool 45 “Recordando a Marion/Cumbia delincuencial” by Los Faubulosos Chapillacs from Arequipa, Peru. All of his subsequent releases have been refreshing and exciting, and he’s helped me gain a deeper understanding of the diversity of music that Peru has produced over the decades. He has doggedly stuck to his DIY punk roots, and remains loyal to the archaic formats of vinyl and cassette tapes, despite what others who consider themselves more business savvy may tell him to do. Above all I have admired his honesty, hard work, and dedication to bringing out stuff that no one else has; through it all, his fundamentally decent character – he always wants to do right by the musicians and license things properly, for instance – has been a shining path as it were, and it’s no wonder people like the folks at Light In The Attic and Will "Quantic" Holland have taken notice.

For me, my interest in the music of Peru started a bit earlier, though I’m ashamed to say that growing up the only Peruvian “tropical” (i.e. Afro-influenced) artists I knew were the ones who had made it to the New York salsa scene of the 70s – Melcochita and his sister Lita Branda. I had no idea about home-grown Peruvian cumbia, rock, or mambo. I always loved Melcochita and Lita’s sound but just assumed they were Cuban (they did those great old-school Sonora Matancera sounding records on SAR Records), until I found out later they were from, of all places, Lima, Peru – who knew?!? And who knew they had careers in their home country long before the Big Apple called them to sing salsa?

Anyway, then in the 80s, it was the Afro-Peruvian and Andean folk recordings that my aunt brought back from her trips to the country that caught my ear. A little later it was the 2 Afro-Peruvian divas: sexy Eva Ayllon and the super-talented Susana Baca, who had emerged from that folkloric “criollo” scene that suddenly came to my attention through albums they recorded and released in the USA during the 1990s. And of course there were the Rough Guide and Luaka Bop compilations to further educate me, as well as some “world music” concerts in the UK and NYC featuring the wonderful Afro-Peruvian troupes that reminded me so much of my beloved Cuban rumba and guaguancó ensembles, right down to their use of clave and cajón (percussion boxes).

But when Vampisoul Records released their brilliant “Back To Peru” Volume 1 compilation in 2002, it was like a flaming meteor had crashed in my front yard, fallen to Earth from Planet Peruviana, and it was then that a whole new world revealed itself, and the incredible psychedelic spectrum of vintage popular music form that splendid country opened up before me like the diverse landscapes of Machu Picchu to Cuzco, Iquitos to Arequipa, Titicaca to Nazca to La Victoria (Lima)… as seen through some sort of magic prism that spun out of the black hole in the center of my record player. And then a short time later, when they invited me to design their Gozalo! Tropical Bugalu series, I was hooked. I was very excited when they shared with me the first Cumbia Beat compilation before it was officially released – and now their volume 2 is out, and even better (if that’s possible). And then, in the midst of my salsa nightclub gigs, from the totally modern perspective (though roots inflected), came Nova Lima, mixing acoustic Afro-Peruvian folk and clubby electronica with salsa and dub, seemingly out of the blue (Mike is going to correct that impression too – you’ll see, he’s working on putting out their very earliest recordings when they were a hardcore punk band, showing their evolution/history goes back farther!).

Around the same time, I enjoyed opening for this funny little upstart New York band called Chicha Libre in concert, as they were a lot of fun to hear and dance to, and band leader Olivier Conan’s subsequent chicha compilations were also highly entertaining and informative. Now the band has matured, though they have not lost their sense of humor, and I love it even more.

Around this same time that I stumbled on Chicha Libre and the Club Barbés scene in Brooklyn, I became friends with Cecilia Noël, a Peruvian singer of great talent and strong personality who I cherish as a friend to this day. I introduced her to Mike’s discovery Los Chapillacs, and she helped tame them long enough (with her money, professionalism, expertise, artistic talent, experience, decency and drive) to actually get them to record and complete an entire album (brilliant!!), a super cool slab of spaced out cumbia craziness called “Odisea Cumbia 3000” that still needs to be released outside of the band’s home country (US indie labels, are you listening??). Then I did my most ambitious compilation project to date, the triple CD “Beginner's Guide To Cumbia” for Nascente, and of course, Mike was there to help me get together some awesome cumbia peruana tracks (thanks again, Mike!). Seemed like Peru was here to stay in my life!


The cover for my Beginner's Guide to Cumbia (my lettering and art direction).


But back to MassTropicas. All the while during the time I was doing these other Peru-based projects, Mike was ceaselessly searching for the next intriguing sound, wandering far into the jungle with his recording equipment, searching deep into moldy dusty back rooms and basements for unreleased tapes, following the trail of some long lost musician to interview him and license obscure tracks, or even traipsing through Lima’s hot streets to record a legless one-man-band! But always in search of both contemporary and vintage sounds to excite and confound. Along the way I helped a little here and there, mostly with scanning images for him, or mastering rare tracks from vinyl sources when original tapes were not available, and of course writing record jacket blurbs; it’s been an honor to check out and give feedback on Mike’s test pressings and Bruno Guerra’s wonderful graphics before the product hits the market.

I thank Mike, Vampisoul, and Olivier (and Quantic too) for helping me discover artists who I now know well, love, and play frequently, but had no clue about when I was first getting into Latin music. Artists like Juaneco y su Combo, Coco Lagos, Alfredito Linares, Félix Martínez, Enrique Lynch, Los Destellos, Grupo 2000, Conjunto El Opio, Los Ilusionistas, Ranil, Chacalon, Grupo Naranja, Carlos Hayre, Carlos Pickling, Nilo Espinoza, Mario Allison, Ñico Estrada, Los Yorks, Los Mirlos, Manzanita, El Combo de Pepe, Pedro Miguel y sus Maracaibos, Carlos Centeno, and the granddaddy of them all, Lucho Macedo, etc. – too many to list here! To realize that Peru’s music history is as rich and incredible as that of any other Latin country, and that its “tropical” feeling is as deep and Afro-inspired as the countries one generally thinks of as more African influenced (Cuba, Puerto Rico, the DR, Colombia), is nothing short of an epiphany for me of a magnitude that I am still coming to grips with today, a decade after the first world-shattering “Back To Peru” compilation (and I can tell you now, the second volume tops the first!). In fact, that compilation is what inspired me to do "The Afrosound of Colombia, Vol. 1" for Vampisoul!

So, what is the next chapter in this Peruvian saga? For me, it’s an upcoming CD/LP for the World Music Network folks entitled "The Rough Guide to Latin Psychedelia" (due out next Spring) that has a very healthy dose of Peruvian psychedelic salsa, funk, and cumbia, including some never before remastered rarities, and an entire bonus disc dedicated to the most crazy recordings of my beloved Destellos, some never before on CD.  Again, I owe it to Mike for helping me with these selections.


Mock-up for the forth-coming RG to Latin Psych (my design)


And for MassTropicas, what is Mike up to now??

Well, it’s a brilliant new release called “Cocinando” (anything with that title is already dear to my heart!) by a guy who called himself Martín López, and the sound is as close as Mike has gotten to actual “salsa” (i.e. Cuban dance music filtered through New York with Puerto Rican and Dominican flavors) thus far. From the awesome cover art by the ever-talented Bruno to the super informative liner notes – some from Martín López himself – this release is sure to get those old-school salsa fanatics salivating, and it sheds light on an obscure chapter in the history of the mighty MAG records and the stop-start career of vocalist/musician/policeman Pedro López Valladres, also known professionally as Martín López. The time period is classic old-school, 1969 – 1971, and there are some cool covers of Fania-related classics here (“Sonero” and “Mi Ritmo Te Llama”), as well as some tracks with no brass and lots of bouncy electric guitar courtesy of the genius from surf group Los Belkings, Raúl Herrera, in the classic Peruvian tropical mode. Make no mistake – this is not your Nuyorican salsa; it’s actually quite a diverse mix of genres, but I do think salsa and boogaloo collectors will like this record a lot more than they might think. Great sound quality too, as these were remastered from the original tapes, and fully licensed from MAG. Check out the artwork here on my blog for a taste of the excellent packaging, and BUY this album soon as it comes out – you won’t be disappointed.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

2nd Annual Afro Caribbean Improvised Music Festival

Check this out - I will be participating and please pass along to anyone in the Chicago area!!

Sunday, November 4, 2012

2nd Annual Afro Caribbean Improvised Music Festival





Dear friends and fellow salsa fanatics,
I want to tell you all about a great cultural event happening in Chicago during the period of December 12 – 16. While many of my friends do not live there, I do have some in the area and I am urging you all to check this out. Especially exciting to me is the live music. Pupy Cantor will be channeling the spirit of Chamaco Ramírez, Henry Cole and his ensemble will be invoking the spirits of afrobeat originators Tony Allen and Fela Kuti, as well as the Boricua bomba and plena masters of yesterday and today;  and Orquesta el Macabeo will blow your mind with their irreverent, progressive salsa stew! All three will be unique acts that people in the Windy City have rarely seen live before, if ever (El Macabeo and Henry Cole are flying direct from Puerto Rico). I will be there helping out – doing some DJ-ing, helping to host the record fair, setting up some eye candy in the form of an album cover exhibit, etc. It all ties in with this project I am assisting with, a documentary film called Alive And Kicking: La Historia de Chamaco Ramrírez (The Story Of Chamaco Ramírez). Not to be confused with the British comedy from the 1950s of the same name, this is a bio doc about the Puerto Rican singer known as Chamaco Ramírez, taking its name for the singers only solo record released in 1979 (which I helped reissue with Fania/Codigo last year). The film is being put together by the extremely talented team of Eduardo Cintron, Omar Torres-Kortright, Eduardo R. Ortiz Romeu, Chamaco Ramírez Jr., Glorily Velez, Paul Galati and Steven Aguilar. I was recently with them in New Jersey participating in some “talking head” interviews (myself and Ron Levine, original cover artist for Alive And Kicking the LP) and it was a blast. The film features lots of interesting in-depth interviews as it tells the story behind the man and his music. You can find out more about it at the events listed below, and by checking it out on line:



Tribute to Chamaco Ramírez 
Featuring Pupy Cantor

Wednesday, December 12, 2012 8:30 PM - FREE
Old Town School of Folk Music - 4544 N. Lincoln

This tribute to Chamaco Ramírez will include an exclusive preview of the documentary Alive and Kicking: The Story of Chamaco Ramírez and a live performance by his dear friend Pupy Cantor. Don't miss this incredible night of film and old school salsa.

Pupy Cantor

Tribute To Chamaco Ramírez (pictured: Tommy Olivencia, rt; Chamaco Ramírez, lft)

Henry Cole & The Afrobeat Collective
Thursday, December 13, 2012 - 8:00 PM $15
Mayne Stage - 1328 W. Morse

Equally able to jam with a hip hop crew or jazz masters, Henry Cole harnesses well-honed rhythmic power and love of catchy, evocative melodies to create a deep, wide-ranging vision of unity, balance, and Afro-Caribbean creativity. This is their Chicago debut.

Henry Cole

Orquesta el Macabeo - Two Shows
Friday, December 14, 2012 , 9:00 PM- $10/$15
Bottom Lounge - 1375 W. Lake
Sunday, December 16th, 2012, 6:00 PM - $10/$15
Willowbrook Ballroom - 8900 S. Archer Ave. Willow Springs, IL

Orquesta el Macabeo

El Macabeo

With backgrounds in rock, punk, ska and reggae, Orquesta el Macabeo's intense, driven, highly percussive salsa dura is tinged with a bit of all of those influences and will have you dancing to salsa without having to take a single class.

2nd Afro-Latin Record Collectors' Fair and Exhibit
Saturday, December 15, 2012 - 4:00 PM FREE
914 Studio - 914 N. California

Pablo Yglesias (DJ Bongohead), author of Cocinando: Fifty Years of Latin Album Cover Art (Princeton Architectural press, 2005) will be joining us for this one-of-a-kind Afro-Latin Record Collector's Fair. Collectors will be allowed to play, exchange, buy and sell records.



SRBCC's Traditional Traveling Parranda
Saturday, December 15, 2012 - 4:00 PM - $10
Studio 914 - 914 N. California

A still from video of last year's Parranda

Traveling Parranda in 2 large buses with pleneros and jíbaro music from Puerto Rico. Everything will end with a big party at the Afro-Latin Record Collectors' Fair taking place at Studio 914.

Alive And Kicking




Born in 1941 in the Parada 26 section of Santurce, Puerto Rico, Ramón Luis Ramírez Toro, known as “Chamaco” (‘kid’) Ramírez (or “Chamo” for short), remains a somewhat obscure salsa singer (sonero) in the world of international Latin music. However, among world-wide fans of 1970s salsa dura and Puerto Rican aficionados of home-grown talent, he is well known for his signature composition “Trucutú” and his epic interpretation of Catalino “Tite” Curet Alonso’s anthem of survival, “Plante Bandera.” 


A youthful Chamaco Ramirez
If Ramírez had never done anything else, his recordings with Tommy Olivencia (May 15, 1938 - September 22, 2006) alone should have been enough to cause him to be held in the highest esteem. 

Chamaco Ramirez (right, front) with Tommy Olivencia's orchestra, La Primerisima, early 1960s
 They are some of the best salsa tunes ever put to wax. And yet he seems to languish in semi-obscurity. All the more strange since the Olivencia recordings were not his only output. Hopefully this reissue of his only solo album, Alive And Kicking from 1979, will help rectify this unfortunate situation and bring Chamaco’s artistry to a wider public. Though Ramírez was known well enough in the 1960s and 70s during his tenure with the Tommy Olivencia Orchestra where he sang from the late 60s to 1971 and from 1974 to 1976 (performing on eight albums), as well as a few important dates with Francisco “Kako” Bastar and the Alegre All-Stars, his occasional stints in jail, engaging in crime to support a drug habit, and momentary disappearances from the scene (ending in his untimely death at the age of 41 in 1983), have contributed to his remaining largely unrecognized in the pantheon of great salsa soneros. Some contend that record labels, journalists, radio DJs, salseros, and others in the industry have purposely ignored or downplayed his achievements because for them, his personal demons overshadow his artistry. This is a pity because Chamaco is an artist well worth giving credit where credit is due. Contrary to popular belief, in cases like this, one must not confuse the artist with his art, though the two are of course intertwined.

Chamaco, Tommy Olivencia, Paquito Guzmán
 Like Héctor Lavoe and Lalo Rodríguez, Chamaco Ramírez had that incredible high-pitched nasal voice that could send chills up your spine. Like Ismael “Maelo” Rivera, who was a mentor and friend, Chamaco had a way with improvising lyrics (“inspraciones”), word play, and rhythmic delivery. Like José “Cheo” Feliciano, Chamaco liked to paint portraits of the people in the barrio because he was “of the street” (de la calle) himself. And as with all of his more famous compatriot singers, Chamaco had trouble with drugs. In the end, that’s what did him in, as he tragically fell victim to gunshot wounds in an alley in the Bronx. According to one small mention in a New York newspaper, he had gunshot wounds to the head and cheek, and died while he was being taken to the hospital in an ambulance. 

One discernable difference between Lavoe and Ramírez was that while the former often preferred to be identified as a jíbaro (country boy) despite how Fania art director Izzy Sanabria depicted him as a gangster in his early days as a sidekick to Willie Colón, Chamaco Ramírez on the other hand seemed more comfortable with the “bravo de siempre” (tough guy) street thug identity projected by his use of slang, drug references, and the macho swagger of many of his songs. Apparently he tried to live up to that image by his actions off the music stage as well. All the pain and suffering in his life, as well as his playful and manly spirit, becomes manifest in his soaring, minor key, adenoidal vocal style, reminding one of the traditional West-African griots or bluesmen of the Mississippi Delta.

Olivencia's first album Tru-cu-tú, ("Trucutú" was the name of a popular caveman character), released on Tioly in 1962; it was re-released on Inca Records in 1965 as La Nueva Sensación Musical de Puerto Rico, with a slightly different tracklisting. Chamaco and Oliencia's orchestra also released several 45 RPM EP recordings on Henry Debs label Disques debs in Guadeloupe around the same time.
Jala-Jala y Guaguancó (1966)
Fire-Fire (Fuego, Fuego) 1967

Chamaco sings the classic Cuban comparsa "Los Dandies" on this 1962 album, Alegre All Stars, Vol. 2 - "El Manicero"
The reunion album, 1974
The classic "Planté Bandera" (1975)


For Alive And Kicking, designer and artist Ron Levine depicted a smiling Chamaco climbing out of a coffin in a crypt, illuminated by a ray of sunlight, which Levine says was simply inspired by the title that was given to him during production of the album. According to Levine, the illustration was his idea and was done in a lighthearted spirit of fun. He did not know of Ramírez’s personal issues, and indeed, no one knew how chillingly prophetic that depiction would be several years later. Levine goes on to relate that he never met Ramírez even once, unlike the other Fania stars he depicted who he met and saw perform on many occasions (Hector Levoe, Tito Puente, Celia Cruz, Johnny Pacheco and Larry Harlow). So in this case, Levine used head shots of his subject that were supplied by Masucci, working from a model and his own body for the rest of the figure. The addition of the ray of light - and how it falls on the coffin, illuminating it - was especially important to Levine, and he worked hard to make sure the whole thing looked natural and yet spooky at the same time.

Artist and designer Ron Levine

The painting by Ron Levine
For those who did know him well, it seemed the singer, who liked to tempt fate and seemingly defy mortality, was moving on a downward self-abusive trajectory that would probably end badly. His fluid vocal skills, brushes with the law, gangster activities, and violent death have been compared to certain rappers, and indeed, there is a parallel, as music producer Chris Soto has pointed out, between Biggie Smalls (Christopher Wallace) a.k.a. The Notorious B.I.G., and Ramírez. This is especially true as far as their final albums being an ironic commentary on their untimely demise (the latter’s posthumous opus was titled Life After Death). Seen in a more positive light, a performer never dies as long as the music lives on (hence the ray of light), and in this way, Levine’s portrait can be interpreted as an ironic tribute that brings this final musical chapter of a gifted singer’s troubled life to a close by elevating it to a higher level. Alive And Kicking is his last will and testament, a little sparkling diamond in the dirt for us to remember him by.

Chamaco, late 70s
The story of how the album got made is as interesting as that of the cover art. In a recent interview with this author, Cuban pianist, composer, and arranger Javier Vázquez related that he was in the middle of working on Ismael Rivera’s next album (released in 1980 as Maelo – El Sonero Mayor) in December of 1978 when sessions had to be halted due to Rivera’s difficulty singing because of painful polyps on his throat. In fact, continued Vázquez, Rivera was quite sick at the time and could hardly sing a note. Not long after, Fania label boss Jerry Masucci called Javier up with a solution for replacing Maelo, which was to bring in Chamaco Ramírez because of similarities between the two singers. It was hoped a session or two could fill in the gap in Fania’s catalog. Rather than sing over the already completed music tracks from the aborted Maelo date, a whole new project was launched, the result being that Vázquez ended up producing from start to finish, hand-picking a band, setting up the studio dates, and arranging Ramírez’ first—and last—solo album.

Portrait of Chamaco by Steve Quintana, III

Javier Vázquez seems almost as unsung a hero as Chamaco. For all his indisputable involvement with arranging, composing, and playing on hundreds of Seeco, Tico, Teca, Mericana, Salsoul, Vaya, Inca, and Fania recordings, he still remains somewhat behind the scenes in New York Latin music history, sadly falling under the radar of most casual salsa fans today. When Javier Vázquez arrived in New York in 1966, his reputation in Cuba with Los Jóvenes del Cayo and La Sonora Matancera proceeded him, and he soon found work with his friend the timbale player Rafael Cortijo when the former was signed to Ansonia Records in the wake of being freed from prison. Though Cortijo, Javier met Francisco “Kako” Bastar, another Puerto Rican percussionist who specialized in timbales. Not long after, Fania came knocking (“they were waiting for me” says Javier), and Larry Harlow, Ramón “Monguito El Único” Quian, Johnny Pacheco, Justo Betancourt, Pupi Lagaretta and others were early clients, benefiting from Javier’s prodigious arranging and composing skills. 

Javier at the piano

His professional association with Ismael Rivera dates from 1971, when Maelo sang with Kako’s orchestra on La Última En La Avenida for Tico Records. Arranging a few tunes for that record led to his being instated in 1972 as Rivera’s musical director and pianist for Los Cachimbos (The Pipes), Maelo’s talented backing band. From the start of the pianist’s career in New York until active production for Fania stopped in the 90s, Vázquez was most consistently employed, primarily in the studio, by Jerry Masucci and the label’s musical director, Johnny Pacheco. In addition to his duties as musical director for Los Cachimbos, Vázquez was very prolific in the 1970s, working for several different labels and turning out a spate of highly regarded solo albums, as well as performing and arranging on numerous recording sessions (many uncredited). From 1977, he was back with La Sonora Matancera, the venerable institution that his father, Pablo Vázquez, helped found in 1924. 

Javier in the studio

Don Javier describes himself as one of Fania’s “go to” guys (especially for arrangements) at that time, so when the sessions for Ismael Rivera came to a halt, it made perfect sense that Vázquez was tapped by Masucci to produce Alive And Kicking because his association with Rivera’s Cachimbos meant that Ramírez would be working with the musical director of his idol, Ismael Rivera. Plus, Fania would be able to put something out in the market comparable to an Ismael Rivera record. According to Chamaco’s sister, Rivera and Ramírez had become close in Puerto Rico’s notorious Oso Blanco prison, forming a vocal group together while behind bars. Chamaco’s last studio recording had been with bandleader Olivencia in the mid-70s.

Some time after, people in New York had lost track of him as he had slipped off to Chicago (so the rumors say), and apparently that is where Masucci tracked him down with his proposal. Though these stories cannot be verified, several sources seem to agree that this was the scenario. According to some sources, Masucci was thrilled to have found Ramírez and to have contracted him to record the album; hence the title Alive And Kicking. Soon after Masucci dug him up, Chamaco returned to New York, and over dinner at a favorite Latin musician’s hangout, the singer and the producer planned out the album, with Chamaco dictating what the song selection would be. A fascinating acapella cassette demo tape has surfaced recently that demonstrates how Chamaco already had the melodies, lyrics, and even arrangements worked out before the recording sessions (one can hear him wordlessly sing out various instrument parts in addition to the lyrics). All of the musicians and coro (chorus) vocalists on the sessions were either people Vázquez had worked with in the past or Chamaco knew from the scene. From the brass section of trumpeter Alfredo “Chocolate” Armenteros (who had played with La Sonora Matacera as well as Los Cachimbos), Manuel “Manolín” González on alto sax and Harry D’Aguiar on trombone (both from Los Cachimbos), to Elpidio Vázquez, Jr., Javier’s nephew (and grandson of Pablo) who played in La Sonora Matancera in the 70s, all were veterans. Adalberto Santiago and Tito Allen had sung coro for Los Cachimbos as well so it was kept “all in the family”, so to speak.

Javier the arranger/composer

However, just to keep it fresh, the sound of the band that Vázquez put together this time was somewhere between the smaller modified conjunto (group) configuration of Los Cachimbos and Olivencia’s larger mambo-style orchestra. Unlike the Cachimbos, there would be no tres guitar and the horns would be augmented by a second trumpet (the uncredited Dominican musician Ramón “Chiripa” Aracena, who played with Pacheco and La Sonora Matancera) and an additional reed, the tenor sax of the legendary Mario Rivera from Tito Puente’s orchestra. The rhythm section differed from that of Los Cachimbos as well, with Javier employing Alberto Valdez on conga, Edgar López on bongo, Mike Collazo on timbales, and Jorge Maldonado on guiro, maracas, and coro. Javier confirmed to this author that there was a conscious decision to diverge from the Cachimbos sound, and that this directive came as much from Masucci as it did from Chamaco and Javier.

Original reel to reel studio master tape from Alive & Kicking

The nine recordings that resulted from these sessions should be considered Chamaco Ramírez’s most consistent output because unlike Alive And Kicking, which was done in one concerted burst of energy, his previous recordings had been as a vocalist in someone else’s orchestra, sharing the stage with other vocalists like Paquito Guzman. Therefore, they were of necessity sporadic, disconnected, with personnel changes and differing sound over two decades. This album’s power and consistency is also due to Vázquez’s leadership over his hand-picked musicians who functioned as a cohesive unit. According to Vázquez, Chamaco was enthusiastic, easy to work with, being in excellent form, and came to the sessions completely “straight” (without being under the influence of drugs). Unfortunately, in the ensuing years after the album’s release, the two were never able to perform together live to support it, as Vázquez was often touring out of the country or otherwise engaged in multiple recording and arranging gigs. In addition, according to several sources, Chamaco was keeping a low profile and so did not have very many live engagements at the time. Sadly, the chemistry that had worked so well in the studio was not to be repeated on the stage. As Javier tells it, he never saw Chamaco again after the sessions were over and to his knowledge, Chamaco “nunca jugaba en bailes en este tiempo para promocionar el disco” (didn’t play dances at that time to promote the record, i.e. did not perform on the local “cuchifrito circuit” the way all the other Fania artists did). This lack of performing, touring, doing television and radio spots, etc., all the usual things an artist does to promote a new album, may go a long way to explaining why the record never really had a chance. With the musician missing or laying low, and unable or unwilling to travel, the label was not able to get 100% behind the recording either. Never the less, the record’s popularity grew steadily in the ensuing decades, at least among fans of Chamaco Ramírez who knew him from his years with Olivencia and collectors of obscure “lost” gems.

Original reel to reel mixdown tape for side A of Alive & Kicking
So what is the key to the special quality of this album? While on some level it’s the legend and tragic drama of the singer himself, but on another, it’s the sheer quality and breadth of the songs.

Alive And Kicking bursts out of the speakers from the start with “San Agustin,” an infectious estampa (vignette) in the son montuno rhythm that salutes the colorful people of the barrio (neighborhood) in the Puerta de Tierra section of San Juan, specifically the area around one of its main thoroughfares, Calle San Agustin. This largely black working-class neighborhood is well known for its boxers, tobacco merchants, dock workers (muelleros), as well as its tracts of public housing and the legendary labor strikes that occurred there in past eras. In composer Catalino “Tite” Curet Alonso’s lyrics, the street is described as a place to “vacilar” (shake), to dance and have a good time. Despite the infectious feel of the song, there is an undertone of loss and nostalgia in that Chamaco mentions the passing away of Chencha, proprietess of the bohemian “barrita” (little bar) where music people such as “Tite” Curet Alonso used to hang out and drink. Many musicians settled or came from the area, such as Noro and Esy Moralles, Raphy Leavett, Rafael Hernández, Pepito Maduro, and Rafael Cepeda. Chamaco mourns the loss of one of its elder statesmen, José Ramón “Papi” Fuentes, whose “bongo is no longer playing” (“tu bongó ya no está sonando”). Papi and Chamaco were bandmates in Tommy Olivencia’s orchestra for a decade. What’s so vital about using this track to kick off the album is that it serves to set the scene in the streets of the working class “pueblo latino”, in El Barrio, orienting the proceedings in the realm of the real.

Picking up the pace and taking the listener from the streets of San Juan to the clubs of La Gran Manzana, up next is an update of the classic “Rumba Moderna,” first made famous by Alberto Ruiz and his Conjunto Kubavana in 1948 and composed by prolific Cuban conguero Justi Barreto. Here Chamaco changes the lyrics a bit to state that the inspiration for his “salsa moderna” comes from New York, where there are so many composers and singers, and that he can’t enjoy himself without the sound of the drums. Note the importance of that statement: Mama Africa’s hand drum must be honored. It’s just as vital as the sense of place (our “barrio obrero”) and the colorful people that inhabit it. Vázquez and Ramírez keep the melody of the original tune, but change the arrangement to better fit the bigger brass configuration, inserting more dramatic stop-start breaks but without destroying the beauty and excitement of the original. Javier also throws in a very tasty piano montuno in the call-and-response mambo section after the break. The song closes with an inspired jazz solo from Mario Rivera.

Original reel to reel stereo master studio tape from Alive & Kicking

“Cuando Manda El Corazón” is a funky bolero/son montuno that urges one to follow the heart’s orders. What is most effective here is not so much the lyrics as it is the emotion with which Ramírez interprets the song. More amazing sax work from Mario Rivera and an interesting fast/slow tempo makes this a treat to listen to and a challenge to dance to.

“Adivínalo” is a somewhat controversial number penned by Chamaco himself, with party-oriented lyrics that have been described as being a playful riddle (in slang terminology) about heroin use at a house party where there are musicians playing, people dancing, basically turning a children’s song on its head. Be that as it may, it’s got an infectious swing and has been a favorite of fans for years. Interestingly enough there exists a robust a tradition of tropical riddle songs, interpreted by the likes of Graciela and Machito or Los Corraleros de Majagual. However, those do not bear any specific resemblance to Chamaco’s tune. On the other hand, Celia Cruz had done a version of the song quite similar to Chamaco’s, many years before with Tito Puente on her album Son Con Guaguancó, but the flavor was more coquettish sexual innuendo and had no drug subtext of course. Celia’s version is an up-tempo guaracha mambo titled “La Adivinanza” and has the same melody and chorus, but different verse lyrics, penned by Heny Alvarez of Hommy fame.

Side B opens with the most heavy-duty track on the record, “Asi Son Bongo” – a lament disguised in an uptempo guagancó dance format that contradicts the bluesy, hurtful lyrics. The song was composed years before by Joseíto Fernández of “Guajira Guantanamera” fame, but again, Chamaco makes it his own. The lyrics complain of a lover who has forgotten the protagonist once he is undeservedly thrown in jail, despite her promise to visit him on Sundays and to take him back when he gets out. Only his mother comes to visit him in that “damned prison” that is like a cemetery for him. Like many Latin lyrics of that era, it suffers from excess misogyny, calling women perverse and treasonous (the only woman being deserving of praise in the song is the mother!). The protagonist, beset by difficulties and tragedy that he sees as being not his fault, complains to his fellow friend (the term being “bongo” – a corruption of the Cuban slang word “bonco”), saying “That’s how they are, buddy” (“Así son, bongo”). Though these lyrics may be of autobiographical significance, that cannot be confirmed; what can’t be denied though is the feeling of abandonment and isolation that any prisoner must feel behind bars, no matter what the situation, and Chamaco probably felt that as he awaited his freedom, which shows in his agonized vocal performance. This quality of suffering he imparts, as well as the cut being an amazing dance floor pleaser, redeems its typical macho posturing. Like many African Diaspora tunes, the pain and suffering is wrapped up in a pleasingly uplifting sonic package.

Again in the macho realm of lyrics, “Kikiriki” uses the metaphor of cock-fighting, a patriarchal blood sport beloved in Latin countries, to comment on Chamaco’s own sense of manhood (“kikiriki” refers to the rooster’s crowing). Though there is a feeling of boastful strutting to some of the lyrics, as in “Don’t mess with me and I won’t mess with you,” there is also a certain playfulness to Chamaco’s rendering here, where he describes his own rooster as having a peg-leg (“pata de palo”), and also poking fun at Fania’s boss, saying “Jerry Masucci tambien tiene su gallo” (Masucci also has his rooster), as if to say we are all in this game together, let the best man win. The game play reference (in this case placing bets on the outcome of the rooster fight) is an echo of “Adivínalo”, but we’ve moved from a guessing game about altering your senses through drugs, to a contest of sublimated battle skills transferred to the realm of male birds. The arrangements are full bore big band joyous salsa, employing many exciting “moña” call-and-response counterpoints within the horns in the style of Cortijo’s Combo or a Tito Puente mambo, sure to keep the dancers happy. Take note especially of the trumpets, with a hot solo near the fade by Alfredo “Chocolate” Armenteros, a favorite of Javier Vázquez. Like several others on the album, this tune comes from an older era. It was composed by F. A. Saragoza.

Following the upbeat strains of the previous selection, Chamaco brings his soulful and suffering side sharply into focus with the torrid bolero “Respetala.” He implores his lover to scold him because he deserves it for being untrue to her, for being a Hell-raiser; he does not merit her forgiveness. As in the best tradition of over-wrought bolero lyrics, he begs her to beat him, even kill him, if she wants, but to never leave him without her love. He realizes he has offended her, made her suffer. These lyrics may well have resonated personally with Ramírez. Whatever the case, the simple, direct, heart-felt way he sings the song makes it believable. The flamenco melody and minor key reinforce the bluesy desperation of his delivery. Whether she is a traitor or a virtuous woman, the love interest these songs is the object of much strong emotion, and who better to sing it into life than Chamaco Ramírez.

Back to the upbeat salsa with another self-penned number that describes a humorous vignette of a drunken bus driver. Throughout the 6 minute dance floor marathon track “No Es Vacilón” (which loosely translates into English as “It’s Not a Joking Matter”), Chamaco’s playfully anecdotal rhyming and Vázquez’s happy piano conspire to keep things going in a party atmosphere (“un ambiente de fiesta”), as Chamaco puts it so well in the song. Here the sound is highly reminiscent of the work Javier Vázquez had been doing with Ismael Rivera y Sus Cachimbos at the time, with some of Chamaco’s rapid fire rhythmic vocals eerily echoing his friend and mentor Maelo’s patented delivery.

The album ends with a classic 1920s son montuno from Cuba, the Reinaldo Bolaños composition “Fanía Funché,” made famous by Conjunto Estrellas de Chocolate on their 1960 Puchito release Fiesta Cubana (retitled Guaguancó A Todos Los Barrios in the U.S.) and covered by Johnny Pacheco on his 1964 album Cañonazo, the debut release from the label named for the song. Here, under the title “Fania” (as it was called on the Chocolate album), Javier changes the original small group sound into an anthemic big band cha-cha-chá arrangement that brings all the slow and steady funky Afro-Cuban sabor of the original, but pumps it up and expands it a notch to sound like something from the New York Palladium era. Chamaco name-checks trumpeter “Chocolate” Armenteros (not to be confused with Félix “Chocolate” Alfonso, the leader of Estrellas de Chocolate), who blows a sabroso solo that is all too brief despite its mastery and swing. By this point, Chamaco had known Chocolate for almost two decades, as he first worked with him back in the early 60s in Al Santiago’s Alegre All-Stars, and like many in Latin music, revered the Afro-Cuban trumpet master. This is an example of what Chamaco was famous for, the ad-lib rhyming ‘inspriración’ (or ‘soneo’), which often manifests in the form of a praise song or tribute much like the African griot tradition.  Though the song’s lyrics contain many intriguing African words and so may elude a complete analysis, the basic gist seems to be an appeal to African deities for help in times of trouble. Pacheco contends that the title refers to a social club or mutual aid society of Afro-Cubans that for him signified “family” and that’s why he chose it as the name for the record company. For this session as on the others, Javier Vázquez employs the tried and true coro of Fania stalwarts Tito Allen and Adalberto Santiago (aided by Jorge Maldonado), which is especially tasty here. Looking at the master tapes, it appears that the song was added to the album after the others had been sequenced, perhaps as a final addition at the last minute. Whatever the case, it’s a fine end to a stellar record, an album that added Chamaco Ramírez to Fania’s family roster (albeit on the Inca imprint), if only for a brief moment.

Original reel to reel mixdown tape for side B of Alive & Kicking

And with that, Chamaco Ramírez’s crowning achievement Alive And Kicking concludes. An album of nine extremely sabroso numbers from a forgotten Puerto Rican hero of salsa whose career was tragically cut short, arranged and produced by the unsung man-behind-the-scenes at Fania who is finally getting some credit for helping bring this recording to fruition with sensitivity and taste. This recording now has thankfully been faithfully digitally remastered by Alex Abrash, an engineer of the first order who has restored it to pristine sound quality from the analog master tapes, not easy to do with reel to reels from the 1970s. Now that the CD is on the market, Alive And Kicking will hopefully be restored to prominence by today’s salsa lovers far and wide, who will recognize it for what it is: a masterful swan song that deserves a second chance.

Original reel to reel "master mixes" from Alive & Kicking

In recent months it has come to light that a group of intrepid film makers, led by Chicago-based Puerto Rican director Omar Torres-Kortright (and aided by Chamaco Ramírez’s son Chamaco Jr.), are in the midst of working on a documentary also named for this album. The film is an in depth investigation of the life and work of the doomed singer, an attempt to unearth new narratives and debunk some misconceptions. It is eagerly awaited by salsa fans and Latin music historians alike, but it should also appeal to anyone interested in this type of story. Finally, some more light will be shed on the man and mystery behind Alive And Kicking.

Omar Torres-Kortright


Chamaco Ramirez Jr. and Chris Soto


RIP Ramón Luis Ramírez Toro, (September 10, 1941 - March 27, 1983)

Thanks to Javier Vázquez, Chris Soto, Omar Torres, Ray Gayo, Ron Levine, Michael Rucker, Claudia Sanchez and Marlysse Simmons. Adapted from Alive And Kicking liner notes by Pablo E. Yglesias, 2011-2012. Original notes © 2011 Codigo Music.





Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Reworking A Classic Piece of 12-inch History




In 1975, when 4/4 beats were pumping from massive speakers and discothèques were gaining momentum, groundbreaking DJs were coming into their own, mixing and manipulating records to keep their dancers in a state of constant euphoria. The term “disco” was just beginning to be used to describe the music – and the scene – that had started a few years earlier in underground scenes led by places like the Loft in New York City. Montuno Records, the little Latin label that stood up to the major salsa companies, entered this slowly emerging demi-monde and quietly put out a 7-inch 45 RPM disco single from one of their salsa acts. The group was called Yambú, named after a style of Afro-Cuban folkloric rumba, and started by two music teachers, Nuyorican bassist Ramón Rodríguez and African-American piano-man Milton Hamilton. “Sunny” was an old, dusty jazz standard that had been popular with Latin musicians in bygone days, and Hamilton decided to do a Latin hustle-style arrangement for the song, probably one of the first of its kind. Little did Montuno and Yambú know they were going to be part of starting something bigger than any of them would have believed at the time.

 AL Santiago


Ramón Rodríguez

As Montuno Records boss Jesse Moskowitz recalled, Hamilton’s “girlfriend and another girl [Lisette Wilson and Caty Sevilla] were there in the studio with him, and they said, ‘Let’s record a version of ‘Sunny’’ – just like that! So as a favour to Milton, the band let them do it and put it on the record.” Moskowitz goes on to point out that the song really had nothing to do with the original concept of the album. “Of course, ironically, that was the one track that really took off! There are so many funny stories like that,” he laughed.




Moskowitz, his business partner Bob Stack, producer Al Santiago, and the band members decided to put it out on 45 because they felt it had crossover appeal. The feeling, according to Moskowitz, was that “Donna Summer had hit in the clubs, the Latin Hustle was happening, so we pressed 200 singles. And we gave 100 to the Record Pool.” The Pool was a non-profit DJ record sharing service that had just gotten started up by David Mancuso, Steve D’Aquisto and Vince Aletti in 1975; some of the original members included François Kevorkian, Larry Levan, Francis Grasso, Michael Capello, David Rodríguez and Nicky Siano. 


David Mancuso


These trail-blazing DJs had devoted followings in the gay and downtown subculture, and were the precursor to today’s superstar international DJ/producers, though they never hit it big the way the scene is today with stadium-sized rave crowds. Moskowitz described the Pool as it was in the very beginning, stating: “There were these cubby holes they used to put all the records in for each DJ, as a way to distribute stuff for the clubs and keep the DJs in contact with the record business. We wanted them to have this 45 because we thought it could be a hit. Much later I bought up all David Rodríguez’s vinyl stock, because he didn’t want to pay the storage fees on it any more! That’s whole other story…”




Sure enough, this little 45 started taking off: “So they started playing it!” an amused Moskowitz exclaimed. “Guy calls me up from France, ‘Do you have that record’, and I laughed, said ‘How do you know about that??’ He says ‘They’re playing it all over here in Paris in the discothèques.’ Then a guy calls me from London, I says, ‘This is a great business!’ It was unbelievable how it took off.” Continuing with the strange and entertaining story, Moskowitz went on to say that the real irony was, Alex Masucci, Fania boss Jerry Masucci’s brother, then called Moskowitz up and asked him how did he promote that song so it got international exposure so fast. Masucci went on to say, “Everybody’s playin’ it, we’d like to find out how ya did it!”, which was amusing to Moskowitz because Fania had a lot more marketing muscle behind its product than Montuno, and to have the tables turned was a new one indeed. “I said it was nothin’,” recounted Moskowitz with a shrug, explaining, “I just gave the Record Pool guys a hundred 45s and at 10 cents a piece the total investment was only 10 dollars! And for that I got people calling me from all over. It was so funny that Fania was calling me to find out how to promote a record. It wasn’t payola at all, we did ‘em a favour, because at that time the DJs were hungry. Some of them worked seven nights a week and didn’t get paid, well barely anything, so they needed [free promo] records. I wasn’t sure if I should even invest nine or ten bucks! I did zero promotion – there wasn’t any way I was going to do that, I’m not a night person, I don’t go to clubs.”


French 45



 Original test press for 12"


Moskowitz eventually licensed the single to RCA in France, where it sold quite well. After the domestic 45 sold out, Moskowitz decided to put out a limed run 12-inch version of the record to satisfy DJ demand for higher fidelity and volume, and many of the copies went over to the Record Pool straight out of the box. Surely one of the first of its kind, the “Sunny” 12-inch did not however feature a remixed or extended version of the song, a phenomenon pioneered by Tom Moulton a few years earlier. When the 12-inch dance single soon became a staple during the 80s, penetrating the rock market as well, Montuno even re-released the “Sunny” 12-inch to capitalize on this trend.


C'mon everybody, let's do the Hustle!


Interestingly, the original test pressing of the 12-inch was still in Moskowtiz’s apartment 35 years later. If you look closely, it has a note on it from Jesse Moskowitz to Al Santiago saying “Al: Save it, dammit! —Jesse,” which points to the fact that the 12-inch single was a new concept at the time and Moskowtiz was afraid Santiago might throw the test press into the trash because it seemed defective to only have one song on a side (the B-side was the Latin/Brazilian funk workout humorously called “Hippopotamus”). If it hadn’t been preserved for posterity in Jesse’s apartment, the story might never have been told of how a salsa band put out one of the first disco 12-inch singles!



Ironically, as Moskowitz tells it, the actual long-playing Yambú album didn’t sell all that well for the disco crowd “because the rest of it was just salsa or jazz, it was a kind of a mixed thing, so the fact that ‘Sunny’ was on it didn’t necessarily help the LP sell to Hispanics either. I tried to convince the band to cut a whole album of disco material next but they didn’t want to.” Hamilton did indeed go on to do just that, after leaving Yambú. In retrospect, however, none of that matters; today’s collectors and fans love the record precisely because of its diversity of sound, and the story of how one of the songs became one of the first crossover 12-inch means it can claim its own credit in the story of international DJ culture.




Jesse Moskowitz in the Record mart Store, 1980s

Part of today’s burgeoning international DJ culture, the Whiskey Barons (consisting of Bosq & The Bogart) are a production and disc jockey team based in Boston, Massachusetts. They hail from Brewster, MA and Chapel Hill, NC respectively, and began the partnership when both studied music at Northeastern University in Boston. In addition to their own solo ventures, Bosq has also produced as part of the “Kon & The Gang” collective and is half of the group Nitetime (Future Classic). 




Whiskey Barons

According to the Whiskey Barons, the cornerstone of their approach is to tastefully integrate classic funky sounds from around the world into modern sounding productions geared towards today’s dance floors. This has resulted in a wide variety of well received originals, reworks, and edits that span the styles of Latin, African, funk, soul, disco, house, reggae, and rock. The term “rework” generally means the tune has just been slightly altered (rhythm track beefed up, some effects on a particular phrase) or lengthened with some loops or bonus beats, whereas when they remix, the Whiskey Barons usually use the multi-track master tapes and replace actual instrumental or vocal tracks, change the rhythm, etc. Their four vinyl releases have held top sales spots at record stores on three continents, and their continuous flow of digital offerings have been getting play by top DJs around the world including Gilles Peterson, Tommie Sunshine, Numark, Cosmo Baker, Sinden and many more. 

When fellow DJ/producer Pablo Yglesias aka DJ Bongohead put together the Subway Salsa compilation for Vampisoul, he researched Montuno Records and interviewed label owner Jesse Moskowitz. As related above, in the course of his investigation he stumbled upon a test pressing for the 12-inch single of  “Sunny” (and the original mixed-down reel-to reel for the single) and became intrigued with the thought of recreating the historic single as a separate but related item to be released after the compilation came out. Realizing that the 12-inch release of “Sunny” was exactly the same recording as that on the album and the 7-inch 45, and that Montuno had never made an extended disco mix for the 12-inch, Yglesias decided instead to produce a new remix of the track to bring something fresh to the table. The one drawback was that the original multi-tracks could not be located, so any real, radical remixing was out of the question. With that in mind he contacted the Whiskey Barons who he knew would “get it” – they would have just the right feel and sensitivity needed to respect the original but update it for today’s dancers, making it stronger and more dynamic. And he knew they could do it with just the regular commercially available cut from the album, too.




DJ Bongohead

After listening to the initial rough mixes, Yglesias gave a few suggestions, and Ben and Sam worked some more magic with their software and deep knowledge of what a DJ needs. The fact that the end result was a pair of reworked tracks that could have fit in with any of the other dance floor oriented hits of 1975 seemed to vindicate the Bongohead/Whiskey Barons partnership in everybody’s mind. When the new test pressing came in the mail, it brought Yglesias back to that fateful day in Manhattan a few years earlier when the project began. Thank the gods of dance that it was Jesse Moskowitz who decided to preserve that first 12-inch test press himself and not Al Santiago (may he rest in peace), and many thanks to Ben, Sam, and Vampisoul Records, or none of this would have happened.