You Only Write About What You Know

At the end of 2009, Albany’s weekly, Metroland, listed 43 live music performances that, according to its critics, were the best of the year (“The Year in Review,” December 31, 2009). The only one included that featured Latinos was the show by Los Lobos at the Egg in April. I found this strange and irritating.

In March 2009, the Egg presented the show Palladium Nights, featuring the music played during the 1950s at the famed Palladium Ballroom in New York City. A crowd of 750 nearly filled the Kitty Carlisle Hart Theater to listen to the music of Grammy-winning pianist Arturo O’Farrill and the AfroLatin Jazz Band with choreography by Ballet Hispanico. In April, Jazz/Latino presented a bio-performance by Grammy-nominated percussionist Bobby Sanabria at the University at Albany, highlighting the life and career of Tito Puente, and a concert at the First Unitarian Society of Schenectady (FUSS) by drummer, singer, and composer Willie Martínez and his La Familia Sextet. In May, Jazz/Latino hosted a performance by trombonist Chris Washburne and the SYOTOS band, also at FUSS. In August, the Albany Latin Fest Association held its 14th annual festival, including for the first time a Latin jazz ensemble, Chembo Corniel and Grupo Chaworo, plus the merengue band Doble Filo and the Puerto Rican salsa star Michael Stuart, accompanied by a killer band from Rochester. Finally, in December, Grupo Los Santos brought to Albany their blend of AfroCuban, jazz, and flamenco to the Dublin Underground, formerly known as Savannah’s.

These artists, with the exception of Doble Filo, have well-established careers, multiple recordings, and international reputations. All the shows were critically acclaimed. None were even reviewed by Metroland. So what gives? From the selections by Metroland’s critics in “The Year in Review,” I cannot help but infer that they review only what’s already prominent commercially and/or what is familiar to them. Thus, unless a Latino artist is well-known and successful in the commercial mainstream he/she will not command their unsolicited attention. It may also be that these critics do not review performances that highlight Latin music and culture because, with the exception of Latin rock, they are not familiar with or do not like other expressions of Latin music and culture such as Latin jazz.

For some time now I’ve been saying to myself that Metroland is not really the alternative newspaper of the Capital Region, as the weekly dubs itself. Instead, I think the paper is the outlet for what we could call the “alternative mainstream.” To put it differently, the paper reflects the mainstream within the mainstream. In a sense, when it comes to music, Metroland is rather conventional. It focuses on what most people in Albany and its environs like: folk and rock.

For the last three years I’ve been trying to get the paper to do a story on Jazz/Latino to no avail. I’ve asked the editor and publisher and also the arts editor. They have never said NO. They just don’t do it. The paper has never reviewed any one of the 24 events Jazz/Latino has sponsored in Albany, Schenectady, and Troy since 2007. I do get my shows included in the arts calendar but the calendar will include, in fine print because it is free, anything that is submitted on time. The only prominent coverage my concerts have had in Metroland has been through advertisements but that kind of “coverage” is easy to get as well—all it takes is ability to pay.

It would be nice if the paper tried a little harder to live up to its self-designation as the “region’s alternative newsweekly.” At this point the label is just a living fossil, a set phrase that maybe once described the paper. To be the real press alternative of the region, the paper would have to broaden its focus and recognize that there’s more to music than folk and rock. In those genres, Metroland’s coverage is broad; well-known as well as emerging artists are included. For Latino artists and non-Latinos that play Latin music or Latin jazz, there seems to be a different standard: only artists in the commercial mainstream need apply. Whether this is the case by commission or by omission hardly makes a difference. To correct this situation all the paper needs to do is recruit critics that know something about Latino music. I am certain that its general readership will be grateful.

Beauty is also the Beast

During the last five years I’ve come to know many musicians who are not just masters of their trade but also wonderful human beings. I’ve also been disappointed to discover that a few of my artistic idols have feet of clay. Yet, I’ve continued to admire them on the basis of their work rather than their personality. This is not always easy.

Last Sunday, as I read Paquito D’Rivera’s eulogy to Jacques Braunstein, a Venezuelan musician that D’Rivera dubbed the father of Venezuelan jazz, I was aghast at his denigration of president Hugo Chavez by referring to him as “ese orangután ridículo que ahora desgobierna la tierra de Aldemaro, de Lauro y de Rómulo Gallegos.” [That ridiculous orangutan that misgoverns the land of Aldemaro, Lauro, and Rómulo Gallegos.] (Latin Beat Magazine, December 2009, News Section) This racist comment took me by surprise and my first thought was “I’ll never buy any more CDs nor attend any performances by him.” Then I thought that this was another case of an idol with feet of clay, an instance in which it was important, although difficult, to separate the person from the artist.

I remember when, during his speech on race, Obama talked about how he could not disown his grandmother despite her prejudice. I think his example was meant to suggest that even good persons can be racist or engage in racist thinking as a result of cultural socialization. D'Rivera’s comparison seems to be one of those cases. I'm not accusing him of being racist. He just need to be told that his chosen metaphor is racist, even if he did not intend it that way.

How do we explain the dissonance between a statement and an attitude? More often than not, racist notions become so ingrained and generalized, that they lose their racist connotation at face value. As a result, people use them without much awareness or realization of what they are doing. Look at Rafael Hernández, the famous Puerto Rican composer, a black man, talking about the "negra maldad" [black malice] of the tyrant in his song “Lamento Borincano.” We have grown so used to associate evil with darkness, that we don't stop to even think how the adjective may be ultimately racist. Historically, we have come to associate, instinctively, darkness with disaster and wrongdoing (e.g. references to "black Friday," "dark episode," "dark motives," etc.). And yet, so many wonderful things happen only in the darkness! (music, movies, sex, sleep, dreams, etc).

The use of "orangutan" as an epithet against Chávez, uncritically reflects the prejudice inculcated by society against primates as lowly creatures. It also reflects an association between race and individual attributes. If Chavez were white his detractors would not call him "El Mono" and I doubt that D'Rivera would have called him "orangutan." In this case, the association between race and low character can be detected by inference but it is there. And that type of association is the essence of racism; it matters little if the racist comment is proffered by a good person but it does matter: a good person should not make racist statements; on the other hand, one would hope that a good person would be open to criticism and be wise enough to acknowledge his/her fault and do something about it.

I don't doubt that D'Rivera is a good person, just like my grandmother was saintly (in my biased opinion), and yet, would say things like "esa señora es negra pero tiene el alma blanca” [That woman may be black but her soul is white]. No one is exempt from prejudice. But some of us are more a product of our cultural socialization than others. The key to freedom from conventional wisdom is self-awareness, openness to criticism, and willingness to change.

To say that the person is not the same as the artist is to suggest that it is possible to embrace the artist’s work no matter how horrible he/she may be as an individual. Which means that whether D'Rivera is racist or not is irrelevant to my appreciation of his music. The distinction is difficult but not impossible. This may be hard to accept but sometimes beauty is also the beast.

On-Line Everybody Knows if you are a Dog

I was extremely disappointed in one recent on-line exchange between musicians and music listeners and connoisseurs. The object of the exchange involved an incorrect attribution to a certain musician of a recent recording. The exchange would have been innocuous had it not been for a disparaging comment made by one of the participants about the musician whose band was incorrectly identified. Worse, the disparaging commentator was the leader of the band in the recording. Thus, his public insult was also an expression of self-aggrandizing arrogance.

I read recently that America’s first president, George Washington, transcribed Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour In Company and Conversation some time before he was 16 years old. The first rule in the book was “Every Action done in Company, ought to be with Some Sign of Respect, to those that are Present.”

Another website told me that etiquette began in prehistoric times as a result of increasing interaction between people. According to this account, manners made life “easier and more pleasant,” and as a result “early civilizations developed rules for proper social conduct.” The French led the way during the 1600-1700s, not so much to get along better with others but to avoid boredom. Using the French word for “ticket” as a basis, they called the elaborate set of prescriptions for proper manners “etiquette.” The implication is clear: manners would be a person’s ticket into socially engaging and refreshing interaction. Indeed. “Since the 1960s,” the site adds, “manners have become much more relaxed. Etiquette today is based on treating everyone with the same degree of kindness and consideration, and it consists mostly of common sense.”

Did George Washington really transcribe Rules of Civility & Decent Behaviour or is this another “cherry tree” myth about the president’s early life? The anecdote is in character but its veracity is beside the point. What matters is that the first rule in this book of manners is that “respect” towards others, especially when they are present, should be paramount. Let’s call this “Washington’s First Rule of Social Conduct,” even if he was not the author.

Is it true that civilization produced manners? If Rousseau were alive today, he would say “No” since, in his view, civilization corrupted human nature (on the other hand, civilization was the result of a social contract---Rousseau is full of contradictions). Hobbes would also disagree, but his take would be that manners were the product of a God-awful type of interaction---the war of all against all---in the state of nature; yes, civilization did produce codes of conduct but only after the protections provided by absolute power made people comfortable enough to interact with each other without fear that “nasty and brutish” behavior would make their life on earth unduly short.

A third website I visited, titled Etiquette From the Past, consisted of excerpts from the book Youth's Educator for Home and Society, published in 1896. One of the prescriptions included in this volume could be considered a variation of Washington’s First Rule. It reads: “The tongue is a little member, but it should be jealously guarded. Harsh and cutting things should not be said after marriage, any more than before. Coarse and unrefined conversation can never be indulged in without a loss of respect which involves a loss of influence and power.”

Manners have certainly changed since the 1960s but I don’t think that the generalization that best describes the changes is that we now treat everyone with the same degree of kindness and consideration. The loophole in Washington’s First Rule is that respect needs to be shown to “those that are present.” The internet broadens that loophole because it is both presence and absence; just like the dog in the New Yorker cartoon who says to the cat: “On the internet nobody knows you are a dog,” it seems that participants in on-line forums feel that they can say anything that comes to mind and that this will reveal nothing about them because no one can actually see them as they say it. In fact, the whole world is witness to their statements, including those whom they talk about, but the consequences that would follow interaction in real, physical time, are not there. Therefore, they can act like dogs under cover of anonymity and with impunity. On second thought, while those who disparage others on-line are seemingly protected by cybernetic distance/absence, when they say "harsh and cutting things" about others they do risk losing not just the respect of their audience but also their own “influence and power.” Thus, the tongue “should be jealously guarded,” as the 1896 book cited above suggests, especially on-line and not just after marriage.

The Power of Identity

Friendship, in its classical connotation, is supposed to be the basis of community. Between friends, reciprocity is the glue that keeps everything together and in classical times, this bond was tantamount to a legal contract. Strangely, this understanding of friendship ruled out intimacy; instead, friendship was the basis for scholarship and scholarship in turn was based on reading, writing, and collecting books, all reflecting a commitment to systematic learning. In this context, the obligation of friends was to use and promote their work among themselves and to others.

Today we understand friendship differently. If I were to use or promote work that was considered substandard, others may say: “he does it because he and the author are friends.” I’ve actually been in situations where I’ve taken a minority position out of loyalty to a friend. I’ve done so for the sake of reciprocity of feeling rather than seeking to re-pay a similar favor or expecting to be granted a favor in the future. In that sense, my obligation has been subjective and thus different from the obligation entailed in the classical understanding of friendship.

People will argue about the meaning of subjectivity and its relationship to objectivity until they are blue in the face and will not come anywhere near resolution, agreement, or consensus. Similarly, it is very difficult to fully understand what propels individuals to engage one another, regardless of the basis for engagement; it matters little whether they do so for subjective or objective reasons—why we do it remains obscure more often than not.

Some will say that identity induces engagement. It is “natural” for like people to approach each other, seek each other out. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”, becomes “if you are Roman, you will hang out with Romans.” It is easy to shatter this assumption. I do it all the time when I tell people that I am not married to a Puerto Rican or when I say that I don’t care much for merengue or that I like opera. Yet, I do understand the power of identity and have acted under its influence more than a few times. Thus, if friendship is bricks and mortar to relations based on reciprocity, identity is often the bricklayer that puts everything together and gets friendship started.

I’ve experienced this many times and most recently did so in Puerto Rico. On the night of November 6, 2009, I walked into the lobby of Intercontinental Hotel in Isla Verde, and to my delight a salsa trio was playing. Thanks to the marvels of technology, the sound of the group, which consisted of keyboards, congas, and a singer/percussionist, included a full brass and reed section. The sound was clearly artificial but it was not jarring. The singer had a good voice and was a great sonero. His maraca technique was superb and during the montunos he sang and played the cowbell. I think that to sonear and play the cowbell without going cruzao on the cowbell is not easy, but this singer stayed in clave seemingly without much effort. I thought I recognized the singer and at the end of their penultimate song I walked over to him. “Aren’t you the son of Andy Montañez?,” I asked. I had seen him last year, doing coro for his father at the Albany Latin Fest. He was happy to be remembered. I sat at the bar and at the end of the set, he came to me and we struck a conversation. I asked him about his sister Lisa, his years in Venezuela, and we talked about his father’s voice. When the subject of Montañez, Sr. came up, Andicito, as he calls himself, mentioned that Andy, Sr. would be playing at the Conrad Hotel in El Condado the following night. It was a private party, hosted by a physicians association, but I could come if I wanted to. No, “You must come,” he said, “Do you have a suit and tie? (“I only brought guayaberas,” I said) It doesn’t matter, you come with me. Here’s my card. Call me tomorrow around 9 o’clock and I’ll meet you there and I’ll get you in. You have to call me, ok? Llámame, ok? ¡No me falles! ¿Me vas a llamar? (“Sí, hombre,” I interjected) So, we go and hang out, you’ll see what a band Papi has, es un bandón, and then we come back here. Pero, llámame, ¿ok?, ¡No me falles!”

I left the hotel that Friday night, floating through the air. The following day I did as agreed and had the chance to hear Andy Montañez, Sr. and his orchestra. It didn’t matter that there were over one hundred people at the party. To me it felt like a private audience. Andicito introduced me to his father and his brother Harold; to his father’s friends and to just about every one of the musicians in the band, who, with the exception of one of the trumpet players, turned out to be a collegial bunch. After the party I told Andicito I would see him back at the Intercontinental, where he was due to finish his regular Saturday night gig. At the Intercontinental, we talked some more, had a drink, and then said our goodbyes.

What made Andicito Montañez, who did not know me from Adam, talk to me as if we had been longtime friends? Why did he embrace me in such a way? I was a part of his inner circle instantly, without warning and for no real good reason. This was not an instance of friendship in the classical or modern sense. Friendship develops over time. Yet, I felt that he and I had become instant friends. I still cannot fully explain it. This impulse that some people have to treat perfect strangers as if they were longtime friends has, for sure, some basis on identity, but it must also be driven by something more personal, stronger and deeper. I don’t know what it is. But it is clear to me that identity is not just power; it also has power, it makes people act in strange ways. In other words, it makes A do B under circumstances in which A should do C. It expresses itself as a relationship but it can truly come into being from nowhere. For the time being, I’ll leave it at that.

Latin Jazz is Not Real

My dear friend George Rivera does not like the term Latin jazz and he disagrees with the statement in my previous post that Latin jazz is the future of jazz. Maybe I overstated my point. First, who really knows what the future of jazz is? Second, Latin jazz is one of many possible futures. But the gist of my statement is that of all the possible futures of jazz, Latin jazz is a probable and highly promising one.

But George’s objection is not so much about what the future may hold but about the here and now. In his view, Latin jazz is, at best, a marketing label, at worst, a designation that confines and ultimately marginalizes musicians, limiting their circulation in the market and therefore their artistic and commercial success. To be designated a Latin jazz artist is bad not just because the category is meaningless but also because it ghettoizes musicians and prevents their incorporation into the mainstream.

As a political scientist I’m familiar with this sort of argument in regards to the question of cultural maintenance versus assimilation. The argument there goes beyond the question of integration versus marginality. The debate in politics is also about the viability of a stable political system. Luckily, no one has yet argued that Latin jazz is a divisive category that opens up a fault line within the society that threatens to tear it apart. Yet in musical circles, the debate is just as heated as in political and intellectual circles.

I’ll never forget the night at the Blue Note when George and Ray Barretto ganged up on me on the question of Latin jazz. When the subject came up, Barretto lit up like a firecracker and he was vehement. “What is that? There is no such thing!!,” he insisted. You can find Latin in jazz and jazz in Latin but Latin jazz does not exist. If a Japanese musician plays jazz, is that “Japanese jazz?” There was a reference to “Jibaro Jazz” in the conversation that elicited derisive laughter from Barretto. I referred to Miguel Zenon’s Jibaro, which had just come out, as an example. I said that if you added clave to jazz you had Latin jazz whether the musician was Latino or not. Nothing I said moved him or George. In the end we tacitly agreed to disagree.

From the Blue Note we went to a coffee shop on the East Village for coffee and dessert. By then our conversation had moved to other topics. I offered to pick up the tab seeking atonement for my Latin jazz heresy. Barretto made the sign of the cross with his right hand and said: “You are forgiven my son.” Then he gave me a ride to my hotel. When he dropped me off on the corner of 8^th Ave and 23^rd Street, he asked what I had been listening to recently and then we shook hands. Later on he was designated a Jazz Master. When he appeared in Ramsey Lewis’ Legends of Jazz, in what turned out to be his last recorded performance, he was introduced as “one of the leading lights of Latin jazz for more than, well, 40 years!”

A Greatly Exaggerated Death

Terry Teachout’s recent piece in the Wall Street Journal in which, based on his analysis of a recent survey, he suggested that jazz was pretty much dying, has been described as “overwrought” but his analysis has led some to dub the future of jazz as “cloudy” and “dire.” The follow up by Nate Chinen in the August 19 edition of the New York Times has been described as “reasoned” and “very balanced.” In his blog at www.openskyjazz.com/blog, Willard Jenkins describes a number of grassroots initiatives that, in his view, demonstrate the vitality of jazz across the country. One such program, at the National Jazz Museum in Harlem, holds 150 events a year, for example. Nothing is said, however, about how many people attend these events or about their demographic characteristics. We have to assume that the demographic includes young people, which, according to all assessments, must be a key component of any audience development efforts, if jazz is to survive.

In Albany, my friend Tom Pierce, who is as avid a follower of the jazz scene as anyone can be, told me recently: “Basically, I believe the survey is probably generally correct overall, based on my own observations on who attends Jazz events, and the decreased mass media coverage (or lack thereof) of Jazz, which sadly (but understandably) is financially driven by decreased public interest, especially in the demographic groups they target. I would say (for whatever it's worth) that within music fans there may be some increasing interest in ‘Latin Jazz.’ I really like the way musicians from other countries, like Anat Cohen, Ed Simon, Guillermo Klein, Dafnis Prieto, Francisco Mela, David Sánchez, Miguel Zenón (to cite just a few that I've enjoyed recordings by) find a way to meld the ‘Folk’ music (if you will) of their homelands with Jazz.”

While I would agree with Tom that the audience for Latin jazz is growing, there is still a long road ahead in terms of audience development for Latin jazz. My own experience presenting Latin jazz concerts in the New York State Capital Region tells me that, at this point, the audience for Latin jazz is intensely interested, small, slowly growing, but would rather enjoy the music gratis rather than pay; if they must pay they are not willing to pay much. Unless the performers are very well-known, it is hard to draw big audiences to individual concerts. After each concert the invariable response is “Wow, that was amazing, I had no idea! More people should have been here!” But then it is too late. This is a challenging situation because sources of funding are limited, individual donations are small both in numbers and in the amounts given, and ticket sales cover, at best, one-third of the costs. In fact, even with funding from a combination of grants, donations, sponsorships, and ticket sales, it is difficult to pay the musicians what they really deserve. Overall, presenting Latin jazz is a Penelope or Sisyphean operation (take your mythical reference of choice): at best, I cover my costs; there’s never money left for next year.

When Brian Lynch played the Ahora,Latin/Jazz! Series in 2008, he told the audience: “You are listening to the future of jazz, right here!” I think he was right. The incorporation of Bomba, Plena, Merengue, Cumbia, Samba, etc. to traditional jazz harmonies and structures is not just enjoyable, as Tom Pierce indicates, that really is the future of jazz. So long as the Jerry Gonzalezes, Miguel Zenóns, Papo Vázquezes, Chris Washburnes, Bobby Sanabrias, Willie Martinezes, Chembo Corniels, Brian Lynches, and Dafnis Prietos of the world (and trust me, the list is quite longer) keep keeping on, there will be an audience willing to listen and nurture the genre. This will not happen automatically or without the active efforts of commercial and non-profit presenters, for sure. But the point is that, whatever the effort may be, the death of jazz will remain, as Mark Twain said about reports of his own death, greatly exaggerated.

Home

"But where is home?," asks Julia Child (Meryl Streep) to her husband Paul (Stanley Tucci) in one scene of the quasi bio pic of Child, "Julie and Julia." And he responds: "Home is wherever we are." Whether Child and her husband actually had that exchange, I have no idea. Doesn't matter. My wife referred to the scene as we were wondering where our home would be and where do we really belong as we consider leaving our present house for another who knows where within Albany. For many years after I left Puerto Rico in 1980 whenever I was asked whether I missed the island I would say "No, I miss the people I left behind but not the place." And for a long time I have felt homeless, like the "Motherless child" Richie Havens sang about at Woodstock. But homeless without despair because for me people have always been more important than place. When I lived in New York at first I hated the city. I can't remember exactly why but I think my feelings were more ideological than existential. I did love being a student in the city mostly because of the friends I had---a coterie of Colombians, Ecuadorians, Brazilians, Panamanians, and Puerto Ricans at Queens College and a smaller group of Puerto Ricans and Anglos at CUNY's Graduate Center who loved big ideas, music, good food, and art. When I discovered the Village Gate and the Salsa Meets Jazz Series my life in the city changed radically. I still did not think of myself in "A Walker in the City" terms but gradually I began to feel differently about place. My idea of home changed and the city became my place. I've been away from New York now for over 20 years and that distance has made my heart grow fonder. Whenever I go back, which is often, I feel at ease, at home. It makes a difference if you have a sense of the city as a whole, like an aura around your head. I feel like I really know the city, even though what I know is people and places within the city, especially places where one can enjoy good food and good music. So, for me, home cannot be wherever I am; but if there are people I care about and music I can enjoy in any given place, well, that's just about all I need to call that place home. The food is optional.