Once a musician hits an artistic high, they need to find some way to maintain the inspiration behind their creative vision. For some artists, this involves an introspective exploration of their personal identity that touches upon elements of cultural heritage and social background. The results may range from rigidly defined genre pieces to outlandishly obscure compositions, depending upon the musician’s sense of expression. The musician might find a new collaborator, and over the course of time, they could encounter a series of motivational artistic partners. Each new perspective forces the musician to examine their own approaches and explore new avenues of expression. A series of diverse projects might provide the necessary stimulation to trigger continued growth over the course of time. A steady series of evolving challenges demands further development and sends a musician into the practice shed regardless of their experience. Whatever path the musician follows, they need a invigorating push that will send them charging forward with a continued sense of creative vitality.
After a series of musical changes throughout his career, Mark Weinstein remains on a single-minded mission of musical creation. After spending his early life maintaining a busy schedule as a trombone player in the Latin dance music world, Weinstein walked away from the music business and found a new future as a professor of philosophy. Disenchanted by the lukewarm reaction to his stunning album Cuban Roots, Weinstein put aside the trombone, but the artistic break would be short lived. Looking for a new pastime, Weinstein picked up the flute and fell deeply in love with the instrument. He re-imagined Cuban Roots as a flautist, creating a number of jazz albums with Cuban folkloric rhythms, including Cuban Roots Revisited and Algo Más. Weinstein stretched his musicianship outside his comfort zone, diving into Brazilian music with some of the best Brazilian musicians on the New York scene, including guitarist Romero Lubambo and bassist Nilson Matta. This collaboration highlighted some outstanding performances from Weinstein, resulting in the albums O Nosso Amor and Lua e Sol. He changed directions and attempted a more traditional Latin Jazz approach, working in a quintet setting with pianist Mark Levine. The resulting album Con Alma was a critical and commercial success, solidifying Weinstein’s position as a leader in the modern Latin Jazz world. Success just sent him moving forward with more passion, continuing new collaborations with Omar Sosa, Pedrito Martinez, Pablo Aslan, Aruan Ortiz, and more.
The future looks bright for Weinstein, who looks poised to continue the amazing stream of outstanding music that has become the hallmark of his career. His 2010 release Timbasa pairs Weinstein with an incredible group of young Cuban musicians, delivering a completely new take on the flautist’s musical approach. In the last part of our interview with Weinstein, get all the details about his 2009 collaboration with Omar Sosa Tales From The Earth, Timbasa, and future release. Make sure that you get the scoop on his background as well - Part 1 of our interview explores Weinstein’s early career and relationship with Barry Rogers; Part 2 of the interview highlights the recording of Cuban Roots and Weinstein’s subsequent leave from the music business; and Part 3 of the interview digs into Weinstein’s new Latin Jazz explorations on the flute.
———- LJC: Tell me a little bit about Tales From The Earth - that album stands out to me as something drastically different. You play very free in most cases, but this album seems wide open.
MW: I had recorded Algo Más with Jean Paul Bourelly. Jean Paul is very, very big in Europe and he has a lock on world music coming out of Berlin. He was running something called The Black Atlantic Festival. So he calls me up and he says, “Would you be willing to come out to Berlin? I’m running a festival and I’d like you to play some Cuban stuff.” I said, “Sure, great.” Then he calls me back about a week later and says, “You know, I’m looking at the lineup and I’ve got to level with you. The whole concept is black music around the Atlantic - in Europe, in America, and in the Caribbean. I really can’t have a white headliner.” I said, “I understand completely. Who’s going to be there?” He says, “You know, that guy from Cuban Roots Revisited is going to be there - Omar Sosa. He’s going to have a whole bunch of African musicians, including this balafon virtuoso, Aly Keita.” Now, when I met Omar, before we did the Cuban Roots Revisited session, Omar and I sat down, had some dinner, and he basically told me his history. He has a funny history - Omar is a classically trained symphonic mallet player. When he graduated from the conservatory where he had studied, the mallet teacher said, “Look Omar, you better learn how to play another instrument. You’re never going to play with the symphony, because that’s my gig.” That was the only mallet gig in Cuba! So, Omar starts to play piano, but mallets were his first love. Omar didn’t go from Cuba to America; he went from Cuba to Ecuador. His wife is Ecuadorian. The reason is that Ecuador has a marimba tradition - slaves that went to Ecuador were from Benin where they had these enormous balafon orchestras. That was the music of the court when Africa really had advanced civilizations. That tradition is still alive in Ecuador. He went to Ecuador to learn more about the African marimba tradition from Ecuadorians. So I knew that he loved playing mallets.
So I called up Omar’s manager Scott Price, who I knew from when we did the album Cuban Roots Revisited, and I said, “Can Omar do a date with me right after The Black Atlantic in Berlin, playing mallets?” He said, “Well, he doesn’t have any instruments.” I said, “Don’t worry, I’ll rent all the instruments.” He said, “Well, I’m sure Omar would love it, let me call him.” Omar jumped at the chance. So I had balafon; Omar with a marimba on one side of him, vibes on the other side of him, and those tuned boxes on a table. Then Jean Paul brought in two African drummers. Marque Gilmore, a trap drummer who had played a lot with Jean Paul, heard about this date and he said to Jean Paul, “I’ve got to be on this date.” Jean Paul had this really great Polish bass player, Stanislou Michalak. We went into the studio for two days and not only did we not have music, but we had no concept. No one knew what they were going to do - literally!
We were all staying at a hotel in Berlin, so we get into the bus. I’m in the bus with the two drummers and Omar. We’re driving and the start to sing Toque Eleggua, and they’re singing it exactly the same. These two African guys and a Cuban guy, and they’re singing the same melodies. That’s how much that religion has locked in. So we go into the studio and we start to play. The first thing we record is actually not the first track on the album, the first song the we recorded was the second long track, which is Toque Eleggua. I’m in a booth and I’ve got a C flute, an alto flute, and a bass flute on a piano rack. Just laid across the rack. I’m just picking up one flute after another, trying to play as musically as I can. The texture is so thick that Jean Paul ends up practically not playing. Every single note on that album is just what went down in the studio. Now, you know, there was a lot of editing. The first tune lasted for almost an hour. We would play and then I’d stop playing. Then someone else would start and then I’d play again. Then someone else would stop and then someone else would keep on playing. The tune lasted for an hour! I cut three tracks out of that first recording. It’s edited in the sense that we had to pick through what we recorded to find the boundaries. Otherwise, it was just, again, that magic of putting great musicians in a studio together, in a very high-risk environment.
What I’ve actually learned how to do is to convince musicians that I don’t have an agenda. This is really what works - I go in with these guys that are masters and I say to them, “This recording is not about me.” And I say this to everybody, I say, “I will never stop a take, but you can stop a take anytime you want. The only thing I want from you is that you play absolutely as good as you can play. If I need to fix my stuff, don’t worry about it. This is not about me, this is about you.” So, for example, when I recorded those choros (on Tudo De Bom) - I’m not a classical flute player, I can’t play those choros. The hard choro, I said to those guys, “Can you play it without me?” And they said, “Yea.” Then afterwards, I played the choro instead of me doing what ever other horn player would do, which is mess up a million times and make them do it over and over and over. And the way that happened, Romero did that to me. For O Nosso Amor, we go in, and we play “Bahia.” We play it and it doesn’t sound particularly good; the rhythm section doesn’t gel. So we play it again. Bahia is a weird tune; the harmonic rhythm is odd. It begins with chords that change very slowly and by the time you get to the last eight bars, it’s changing every beat. So the way you have to dig into the chords at the beginning when the chords are very slow and then move very quickly through the changes. So your solo has to build with the harmonic tension. We play the second take, the rhythm section sounds good, but I’m learning the tune! I got the tune down, but I’m not really playing well - I’m not playing as well as them. We finish the take, Romero comes to my booth, opens my booth door, looks at me in the eye, and he says, “Don’t make me play that song again.” I said, “Great, what do you want to play next?” Then, I did what I had to do in the studio after they were gone. He really taught me a lesson; he wasn’t trying to, but he taught me a lesson. And that is, if I want the rhythm section to sound great, the base recording cannot be about me - it has to be about them. Then if I have to overdub, I’ll overdub.
The African thing - there was no way you could overdub that stuff. The African thing is complete conversation throughout. Then of course, we mix things up; we have some fillers with the two mallet instruments and then I play that little filler with the bass player. The basic tunes were cut out of long, extended improvisations. I work with this one engineer, this one guy Phil Ludwig. He’s a great musician. That was recorded in 2004; it didn’t come out for five years because I didn’t know what to do with those tracks. Phil and I listened to it and between the two of us, we figured out where the tunes were. That is free jazz! A review got posted by a guy who is a musicologist, and he said something really important - he said, “Free jazz has become completely stereotyped, and it all sounds the same. Tales From The Earth - that’s free jazz. That’s jazz musicians responding to a musical environment in a way that is completely responsive to the music; not playing out, but playing freely. ” I think that the guy’s right. But in that respect, almost all my records are free jazz. Because we just go into the studio and play.
The studio is the only place that I can play - it is the only place where I can be loud enough and hear myself play. When I play live, I can’t play. I never can really hear myself. In the studio, everybody has their own earphone mix; I can make the flute as loud as I want! Then I can actually hear myself. The big problem with the flute isn’t that you can’t hear it in the audience, because the flute carries. It’s that you can’t hear it when you’re playing it. It doesn’t have the presence when you play, that a saxophone or trumpet does. It’s a very, very soft instrument. If you’re playing in a great club, with a great soundman, and you have great monitors, O.K. In most clubs though, the sound system sound awful. So when I play live, half of the time, I don’t even hear myself, I’m on automatic pilot! In the studio, I can really hear myself. To me, that’s my art form. My art form is really recording.
LJC: Timbasa seemed like a really interested evolution - Cuban Roots and Algo Más were based on the folkloric and the ancient, where here you’re dealing with timba guys and playing modern style Cuban music. How did that come together?
MW: Well, here’s the story. You know who Marty Cohen is, right? Marty and I go back to 1961. I met Marty when he made his first cowbell for Pacheco. Pacheco met Barry Rogers in high school; they were both in an automotive trades high school. In the sixties, you couldn’t get cowbells for any amount of money. Guys would work in the Catskills just so they could go into the antique shops and try to find cowbells. Pacheco had made himself a cowbell when he was in metal shop - the thing that they call the Pacheco bell, the big long flat cowbell. You couldn’t put that on a cow because it was too narrow, the clacker wouldn’t work! Pacheco was basically a timbale player as well as a flute player; he used to play timbales when he had a little conjunto. So he makes himself a cowbell and all of the drummers want that cowbell. But he graduated from high school and he no longer has the big metal machine and the metal. He runs into Marty Cohen, who was working as an engineer, and he has a machine shop in his garage. So Pachecho says to Marty, “Here’s the design, can you make me cowbells?” Marty says, “Sure, no problem.” So Pacheco and Marty start selling cowbells. So Marty starts going out to the clubs and I meet Marty Cohen, and we would hang out.
After I started to record again, he has this big party for his 65th birthday. He invites me to the party, and I had just won best flutist on Latin Jazz Corner and Pedrito had won for best percussionist, both for Con Alma. Pedrito sees me and he comes over and gives me a hug - “Thanks for letting me record that album, when are we going to do another project?” Then I run into Pedrito again, a very sad thing - the engineer who had recorded Algo Más, his son had gotten killed in an accidental shooting. He had set up a scholarship fund and he had set up a concert to raise money for the scholarship fund. Paquito was headlining it, and I go to show my respects, and Pedrito’s there. So Pedrito sits down next to me and he says, “When are we going to do another project?” So I say, “O.K. Pedrito, do you know a piano player and a bass player who play as good as you?” He said, “I got the guys.” I said, “Great, hook it up. Bring in two other drummers, so that you’ve got plenty of drummers to play with.” I thought that he’d bring another conguero, so he could play rumba - and then we’ll do a session. And I was BSing! I had just recorded Straight No Chaser and I had committed myself to the Kenny Barron album. Kenny Barron cost me a small fortune to get on a recording, and I was broke! I had records backed up! Jazzheads was saying it was crazy; I was releasing too many records. But, Pedrito sets it up for me. So I either say yes or I’m jive, and I can’t afford to be that, because I want these great musicians to know that my word is my word.
So we’ve got two days in March, which turns out to be one day. So I say to him, “OK, have the guys bring in tunes, whatever they want to play and we’ll just play.” So we go into the studio and I bring just zeroxed pages from the Real Book, every corny tune I can think of. For the hell of it, I bring “Just Another Guajira” because I sometimes play that on gigs. We go into the studio and the piano player goes to the piano and he starts playing Chopin - serious Chopin! The first tune we play is “A Ernesto,” the Chucho Valdes tune. It just goes from there. All of those arrangements were head arrangements worked out in the studio except for the fact that Pedrito had all of those drum breaks worked out with his drummers. He had played a lot with Panagiotis and Axel, so they had a lot of stuff worked out. But basically, what we did, is we took the concept of Con Alma, which is to play jazz to Latin drums and just updated it. Timbasa is actually the next generation of Con Alma. It’s just Latin Jazz, but instead of playing creative old-fashioned Latin drums, they’re playing creative, hot new thing Latin drums.
LJC: What sorts of switches did you have to take to play with these guys, because they’re taking a very different approach?
MW: I had the tiger by the tail. I had to play in a way that I could somehow project musically. I’m not talking acoustically; I don’t mix the flute high; I always mix the flute into the track. So it’s not a matter of being louder than everybody, it was a matter of figuring out how to stand out above the density of the texture. What it did was really plug into that whole free concept of playing that’s at the root of my playing. This is going to sound crazy, but there’s no rhythm section in the world that can throw me - when I started to play with Eddie Palmieri, I learned the trick of being a white guy and playing with Cuban drums. You never try to figure out intellectually where the beat is, instead, what you do is relax, and really slowly start to dance. If you just let yourself dance, you’ll always find the time, because it’s dance music. When we played “Footprints” in 7/4 . . . I can’t play 7/4! I never counted to 7 until after I made the recording! Then I listened to it and I said, “Where the hell is the seven?” Instead, I just let my body respond to the rhythm. That rhythm section is so burning that there was no way that I couldn’t play in time as long as I had the confidence to let myself play and not think intellectually.
Again, in post production, if my down beat isn’t exactly where I want it to be when I’m playing some of those figures with those guys, if it wasn’t exactly tight . . . that’s why God invented Pro-Tools! But you can’t fix a solo, not when you’re playing eleven-tuplets against a quarter note! When it comes to the charts and the tight figures, before I put it out, I make sure that it’s absolutely clean. Playing with Eddie Palmieri just gave me such a deep sense of confidence to play with those drummers. When you listen to Cuban Roots - I don’t know if anybody ever noticed - I’m playing all these solos, but if you listen closely, I’m playing the second voice on all the arrangements; it’s alto, trombone, and bari. I’m playing the answers and the solos and I was bringing those guys in, telling them when to play. There were no rehearsals - I was cuing those guys. What happens when I get into the studio is I just play with complete confidence and rely on the fact that the music is the music and whatever doesn’t work I’ll fix later. But except for that one choro were I had to let them just play and then just overdub, I play the date. I don’t just lay down rhythm tracks and then play; I play the date, because the guys have to know where my solo is going. If you listen to my albums there’s a tremendous amount of interaction with the musicians. You can’t tell if I’m overdubbing or not. If I don’t like a solo and I redo it - which doesn’t happen all that often, but it does happen from time to time - I have laid out the basic contour of the solo and the guys are responding to the contour. You can hear this now when they put out the CDs with all the extra takes - like Coltrane CDs and stuff. Even though the recorded solo is better than the alternate takes - you can see why they picked the one they picked - he’s playing the same solo, basically. Not the same notes, but the same overall structure. A musician is a musician and their approach to a tune is their approach to the tune. Very rarely will you play another take and deal with it very differently. Once I lay down the basic solo, I have the rhythm section doing what they’re doing in response to my solo. So if I want to fix part of my solo - overdub the solo or whatever - I have a rhythm section that’s responding to me. So it always sounds completely fresh and it always sounds completely live. I never go for perfection - I never photoshop the solos. I let the damn thing be what it is. I sometimes photoshop, to tell the truth - at the end of Timbasa, when the piano player and the bass player are playing the figure against the drum solos, I’m playing along with them . . . That figure is hard! You try playing that figure! So I got it sixty percent of the time - that I’ll photoshop. But the solos I don’t. My solos, I really want it to be my response to the guys playing.
I actually found Timbasa easier to play than the type of tight bebop playing that I was doing on Con Alma. Because on Timbasa, no matter what I played harmonically, Axel would hear it. Anywhere I moved the extension, Axel would hear it. There’s this one spot on “A Ernesto” where I play in another place on the beat - I don’t know why I played it, it was probably because I’ve been playing those change for fifty years. I played the Charlie Parker hot lick, which is the piccolo part from Tiger Rag; Charlie Parker played that at least once a night every night of his life. So I play that and then I go right into a comparsa lick. Then Axel hears it and answers me! When I hear him answer me, I catch the last two notes of his lick - you can’t orchestrate that stuff. That’s what I try to get. This is from listening to those drums - it’s conversation. It’s always about conversation. What I want on all of my albums - and this you hear a lot of Algo Más - I wanted the flutes to be a layer of conversation on top of the drums. The drums are having a conversation among themselves and they’re also having a conversation with the bass and the guitar. The flute is having conversation with those three guys, but the flutes are always having a conversation with themselves.
That’s what the African music is all about. This is the cliche - African music is call and response. But that’s just the superficial level; on every other level, there’s also a conversation. This is what makes the salsa big band - the conversation between the saxophones and the trumpets; the conversation between the guajeo and the tumbao and the drums. The only thing is that in salsa, it’s really simplified. The conversation is a very simple, very stereotypical conversation. Where in rumba and the Toques de Santos, the conversation is a very sophisticated conversation - it’s like a bunch of physicists talking about black holes! These guys are deep. That’s what I try to do with all of my records; I just try to have layers of conversation, layers of interaction. The interesting thing about that is when you have a good conversation, as opposed to a monologue - when you have a good conversation, you can’t plan it. You have to respond to what the person is saying. There has to be a mutual sense of the evolving form. That’s why I go into the studio without rehearsals. Because if you rehearse, all you’re going to do is turn the conversation into a script. If you don’t rehearse, and if you have great musicians who trust each other, then you can really get some stuff going. Then, thanks to Pro Tools, you can put Clearasil over your pimples - no one will notice!
LJC: You mentioned that you were working on a charanga album, what is on the horizon?
MW: The next thing coming out is the album with Kenny Barron. If Timbasa sells, Jazzheads is going to put it out probably in October. After that, I wanted to put out a romantic album. Part of the reason was that I’m really working on my flute sound. One of the things that flute players rag on me for is not having a good classical flute sound. I have a very unique sound and I’m trying to really prove to people that my sound is a good sound. It doesn’t sound like Hubert Laws, and it doesn’t have that classical edge. I wanted to do an album that would really exhibit my sound, so I decided to do an album of tangos. So I called up Pablo Aslan, and he wrote some charts for me - piano, bowed bass, bandoneon, and flute. We only did five tunes, about half an album. I didn’t know what to do with the other half album. Then I get this e-mail from this piano player Aruan Ortiz, telling all the conservatories that he went to and saying that he’s open for projects. In his resume, he mentions the fact that he was a viola player. So I said, “This is it.” So I called Aruan and said, “Would you be willing to do a string album for me?” I have the CD of the old Arcaño stuff, and some of those are the most beautiful danzones ever recorded. So I told him some of my favorites, and he wanted to put some originals on. So he wrote four danzones and a bolero for flute, string quartet, piano, bass, and a charanga rhythm section. The charanga stuff sounded so gorgeous, so he started pushing me to finish the album with strings.
So I’m doing a charanga album and then I’m going to have a tango album coming out. The charanga album so far is just danzones - you know, danzon-cha and a bolero - so we needed some contrasting things. He said, “Do you know La Cumbanchera?” I said, “Right! That’s it.” So we’re going to is finish the album with burning up-tempos. We’re scheduled to finish it in May. He’s on the road in Europe, so he can’t have the charts for me right now. So this May, we’ll be finishing up the album with up-tempos - you know, guarachas, mozambiques or whatever he comes up with. It’s a charanga album, but it’s not fiddles, it’s a string quartet. I didn’t want just strings, so it’s 2 violins, viola, and cello. The arrangements are really, really gorgeous. Aruan is an amazing musician, a great piano player. So far, Mauricio Herrera, the drummer on Con Alma and Timbasa, played timbales, and then he overdubbed congas. For the up tempos, we’ll probably have two drummers in the studio so that we can swing.
Then I’ll finish the album with Pablo Aslan, and as soon as I figure out the concept, I’ve got to put out another straight-ahead album. I don’t like to just play Latin music. I like to play enough straight-ahead so that people see me as a jazz musician. Because I don’t play Cuban music; I play jazz to Cuban music. I don’t play Brazilian music; I play jazz to Brazilian music. I have a Jewish album out - I don’t play Jewish music, I play jazz to Jewish music. What I mean is that I keep the form completely in tact, but then have the freedom to do whatever I want. That’s one of the reasons why I don’t play typical salsa/charanga flute. I’m not trying to sound like Fajardo - I couldn’t if I wanted to. I’m a jazz musician. But I’m a jazz musician who feels that folkloric music opens up possibilities - traditional music, world music - it opens up possibilities for jazz. Playing flute, that’s a natural transition, because flute is not a traditional jazz instrument. But it is traditional in these world music forms. Plus, flute sounds really good with drums and flute sounds really good with strings. Flutes do not sound good with a tenor player, you know? So I think I’ve found a niche where my contribution as a jazz musician actually opens up doors. A lot of jazz flute players are trying to chase after the tenor players and the trumpet players. I’m trying to find a real role for the flute in jazz. My idea is that by playing jazz with really rooted traditional forms played by guys who really know those traditional forms, I can open up a niche for the flute in jazz.
LJC: I think that you’ve found that - you’ve got an incredible catalogue of recordings. We’re lucky to hear them.
MW: Well, I started recording at 55 years old; I’m going to be seventy this July. Nobody lives forever. So, it’s now or never. Every record that I don’t make won’t get made. I am in hock - I’ve sucked so much money out of my house that it’s six feet under water, but that’s my commitment to the music. If I could afford to make ten records a year, I would!
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Make sure that you check out Part 1 of our conversation with Mark Weinstein where we discuss his early musical development, his time with Eddie Palmieri’s La Perfecta, and his relationship with Barry Rogers. Check it out HERE.
Don’t miss Part 2 of our discussion with Mark Weinstein, where we talk about the recording of Cuban Roots, his step away from the music business, and his evolution into a flautist. Check it out HERE.
You can find the info about Weinstein’s career as a flautist and his initial recordings in Part 3 of our discussion. It brings us up to the present and this final chapter - check it out HERE.
Once an artist reaches a major turning point in their career, they choose to move forward or look backwards. The musicians that live in the past find themselves following similar patterns throughout their artistic lives. While they may make slight changes upon their concept, their musical output consists of the same foundation over time. They may hold different reasons for this stagnant approach, ranging from the popular commercial appeal of a certain sound to a unwavering dedication to their comfort zone. Artists that move forward look ahead with an unforgiving focus and a burning desire to discover exciting new musical territories. They consistently engage new projects that push the limits of their musical concepts and force them to rethink their ideas about improvisation. While they may revisit ideas from their earlier career, they always look at the concept from a different angle, pulling new ideas from the initial thought. Once an artist steps away from the past and moves in a new direction, they inherit a musical fire that sends them into overtime exploring the possibilities in front of them. Whether an artist stays locked in the past or looks boldly into the future, they build a path into their later career - only one approach guarantees an interesting output in later life though.
After hitting a number of career highs, Mark Weinstein put his past success aside and started upon a new musical path. He had become one of the busiest trombone players on New York’s busy Latin music scene during the sixties, playing with everyone from Eddie Palmieri to Ray Barretto. Weinstein recorded a groundbreaking combination of jazz and Cuban folkloric music, delivering Cuban Roots to the world. This album would become a favorite among Latin Jazz connoisseurs, but during the sixties, Weinstein’s forward thinking musical approach just couldn’t find acceptance. Feeling rejected by his peers and audience, Weinstein continued moving forward, dipping his toes into the rock scene. Weinstein received a ludicrous offer to work for Janis Joplin, which served as a breaking point - he turned down the gig and walked away from the music business completely. He returned to college, earned a PhD in Philosophy, and began working as a college professor. When life changes altered his course once again, Weinstein picked up the flute, initially hoping to pursue it as a hobby. Old habits die hard though, and Weinstein soon found himself honing his jazz flute skills, recording, and performing live. With a new lease on his musical life, Weinstein set forth onto a mission to redefine himself through diverse directions which included several re-imaginings of Cuban Roots. Once Weinstein started upon this path, he moved forward with a passionate inertia, producing a prolific output of recordings.
As Weinstein returned to an active performance and recording career, he built upon all the lessons of his past to create some of his strongest work. In part one of our interview with Weinstein, we discussed his early career, and in part two we looked at the creation of Cuban Roots. The third part of our interview follows Weinstein’s first major forays into recording as a flute player, leading to the creation of albums such as Algo Mas, O Nosso Amor, and Con Alma.
LJC: Cuban Roots bled into The Orisha Suite then Cuban Roots Revisited and Algo Más - I see those records all along the same line. What do you see as the progression of each recording?
MW: Orisha Suite was how I tried to redo Cuban Roots now that I was a flute player. I liked the fact that there was singing on it, but once again, that was much too avant-garde for the room. It went nowhere; I never even finished the album. I actually had more material recorded - drums and voices - but the two inch tape got lost because I didn’t have any money. So that was ancient history, it didn’t work.
Cubop Records wanted to re-release the original Cuban Roots. They got in touch with me and I got them in touch with the guy that I thought owned the rights to it. At that point, he had just licensed a track from Cuban Roots for a Rhino compilation of the best Latin Jazz from the sixties. I guess he thought that this album was going to be a big money maker, so he wouldn’t give Cubop the rights. So Cubop said to me, “Can you reproduce the album?” I said, “Sure - the only thing is that I don’t play trombone anymore. But I’ll put together some trombone players and we’ll make the album.” So then I confronted a whole new concept, using the trombones as a choir and sent the charts out to the West Coast. My nephew Dan Weinstein, who does an awful lot of recording on the West Coast, was working for Cubop - he was supposed to rehearse the trombones. I went out to the West Coast and it turned out that Dan hadn’t even copied the parts, more or less rehearsed the trombones. He was supposed to write some charts, and he hadn’t written the charts; it turned out to be one of these comedy of errors. So once again, the album was recorded with inadequate rehearsals in two days, and we mixed that entire album in one day. I was broken hearted, because once again, my stuff was getting messed up, because I didn’t have the support from the record company to do the job right. But Cuban Roots Revisited is what it is what it is, and I got to meet Omar Sosa through it, which was an important thing. The album actually gave me enough credits to join NARAS, so it was all part of the process. But I really wanted to do the folkloric stuff right.
Then I started to record a whole bunch of different albums - a whole bunch of jazz albums, a Jewish jazz album, Tudo de Bom, a couple of straight ahead albums, and I just wasn’t getting anywhere. The Brazilian stuff was not getting me anywhere. So I decided that the only thing that I have to do is make Cuban Roots again. I called up Bobby Sanabria and I said, “Is there a drummer in New York city who really really knows the tradition but has an open mind?” And Bobby put me onto Pedrito Martinez. Pedrito was playing at a club in Union City, which is the center of Cuban culture in New Jersey, playing rumba with singers and dancers. So I went down there and just somehow convinced Pedrito to do an album for me. I brought in my friend Jean-Paul Bourrelly, who is actually a great guitar player, he’s really an underrated guitar player. He had heard Cuban Roots Revisited, and when he heard Cuban Roots Revisited, he said, “Man, you’ve got to get me into the studio with those drummers.” He plays a lot of hip-hop and afro-pop and he just loved playing with those drummers. So we went into the studio. I hired Santi Debriano, who had done an album with me called Jazz World Trios. I knew that Santi understood drums because he played a little conga and stuff like that. We went in there, again, with no music.
We recorded the Toques De Santos the first day - Pedrito would sing a Toque to Jean-Paul; Jean-Paul would figure out the harmony; he would then teach the harmony to Santi; and then we would play the Toque. Pedrito was very upset, because he didn’t really understand what Jean-Paul was doing. But, you know, you’re in the studio, and if you’re a musician in the studio, you play as well as you can. He had his crew, he had his drummers. Pedrito wasn’t playing drums at all, he sings on the album - he sang the Toques. All the flute stuff on the Toques is overdubbed, because I didn’t want to get in the way. But I told him to leave space for me. So we did that, and the next day we did rumba. And all the rumba is live. We just played. The first note that they heard me play was the first melody that I play on “Consuelo De Como Yo.” That was the first time that anyone heard me play. Then, after the basic tracks were recorded, I just went into the studio with all my three flutes and just started to improvise. I started to do the Barry Rogers thing - I’d lay down a line on flute. I’d experiment until I had a good basic riff, and then I’d lay another line down and another line down. Some of those tracks have six or seven tracks of flute. But there is not one written note of music on Algo Más. All of those flute harmonies are completely improvised. And, you know, that’s basically the way that I’ve been playing ever since I started to play flute. It’s all about my ears and my hands. It’s not about writing, it’s about playing. You know, for better or for worse, that’s why the music sounds the way that it sounds.
I don’t think that I’m a great musician; I’m struggling to be as good as musician as I can. But I manage to get amazing music out of musicians in the recording studio. That’s why I put the line of the psalms on all of my records. This is no post-Coltrane religiousity. I literally don’t understand why I can go into the studio with these great musicians and get such great music coming out of them. So I just look at it as a total gift. That’s why I put the line of the psalms on all of my records - just to express the fact that there’s some magic stuff happening when I go into the studio with these guys.
By the way, that’s why I called it Algo Más - you know, one more time . . . to do Cuban Roots one more time. So Algo Más got me the relationship with Jazzheads, but it didn’t sell. You know, it just didn’t sell - it got a couple of good reviews, but no one really understood the music. It was just too out, too different. Then I switched over and started to record with the Brazilian guys and made O Nosso Amor. And Brazilian records just don’t sell man, they don’t get radio play.
So I’m sitting in my house and I’m saying, “Man, I’ve got to make a record for this guy that will sell or else he’s not going to let me record any more.” Mark Levine had just gotten a Grammy nomination, and I said, “That’s the ticket!” So I called up Mark Levine, and said, “Hey man, do you want to do a record for me?” I always give co-producer to my main guy, and I said, “You do the co-producer.” Mark is a serious, serious guy, you know, he goes through 50 CDs to pick tunes, and all this stuff. Then I used Santi, because Santi’s a great jazz bass player. Since Mark is such a mainstream Latin Jazz player, I wanted to get him in the same room with these new Cuban drummers. So I called up Pedrito and said, “Do you have a drummer for me?” He said, “Sure.” I said, “O.K., we’ve got a record date.”
Again, we had two days to record. We were supposed to record Friday and Saturday. So I fly in Mark, pay his airfare; Santi Debriano is up teaching somewhere in Massachusetts, so he’s coming in. Wednesday, before the Friday that we’re supposed to record, Pedrito calls me up, all flustered. He explain to me that it’s unavoidable, he can’t do the Saturday date. So I said, “O.K., we’ll go in, we’ll record Friday, then we’ll record without the conga on Saturday, then Sunday, he’ll overdub the conga.” Mark and Santi and I were supposed to rehearse the day before; but Santi came in really late and he was exhausted. He drove in from Massachusetts; both of those guys were staying at my house. The choice was to either have some dinner and get some sleep or rehearse, and the choice was obvious - forget rehearsing!
So the next morning, we get into the studio at 12 noon, and the record date goes off like clockwork. At one point, Mark comes over to me and he says, “Man, that’s the greatest bass player I have ever played with in my life.” Santi at another point comes over to me and say, “Hey man, thanks for calling me for this date man. Those drummers are amazing!” So we record about half the album, and we’ve been in studio six or seven hours. I’m isolated, I’m in a booth, and Pedrito comes up to me in the booth and he’s really aggitated. I say, “What’s wrong?” He said, “I’m never going to be able to get this energy overdubbing. You’ve got to let me finish the album.” We’ve been recording for six hours, right? “You’ve got to let me finish the album.” So I call the guys together, we go into the main room, and I said, “Well, Pedrito wants to finish the album tonight.” Santi says, “Oh great, that way I can drive back and not cancel a bass lesson” - because he’s teaching bass over at the college. And Mark says, “Oh great, then I can get a day in New York before I have to fly back!” So we ended up recording the album in twelve hours. We basically had head arrangements. Mark had some things written out, we multi-tracked the alto flutes on one of the tunes, but it was basically head arrangements.
We were a tune short and so Mark said, “Let’s play Stella.” Now, there’s actually an interesting history to that. When Mark first came to New York, he was up in Boston and he was a valve trombone player. But he was playing piano a little bit too. I was a trombone player, and trombone players meet trombone players, so me and Mark hung out one day and he gave me the changes to Stella - The hip changes to Stella. This was right around the time when Miles had recorded “Stella” in the concert in Europe. I sat down and looked at those changes and I couldn’t figure out why they sounded good. The substitution where you go back to Bb by playing an Ebmin7 - Ab7 - the standard substitution to Cmin7 - F7, the turn around to Bb Major. I couldn’t conceptually understand why those chords sounded good. I actually learned how to play extensions by figuring out why “Stella By Starlight” sounded so good. So whenever I was at a jam session and anyone would ask me to call a tune, I’d always call “Stella.” So we played “Stella” and Mark has this little arrangement, so everything goes good. At the end of “Stella,” the drummers play solos. The solos they played after being in the studio for twelve hours were amazing. I mean, Pedrito was as fresh . . . The fill at the end of Stella is as fast as anything imaginable. All of the Cuban guys - I’ve subsequently realized what’s going on with these guys - all of the guys that come out of Cuba now have studied folkloric music. Seriously studied it, the way they study jazz, the way that they study classical music. And the drummers who play folkloric music, these guys play for hours and hours and hours on end. What amazes me is just the physical strength of those drummers; the endurance of those guys. Maybe I’m still locked into the sixties Cuban-Puerto Rican thing . . . I don’t know, I don’t think it’s genetic, but it certainly is contextual. The great musicians who are coming out of Cuban are working in such a fiercely competitive environment that the good ones are better than anybody.
LJC: You’ve done a great chain of Brazilian albums, which seemed to start with Jazz World Trios. How did that evolve?
MW: The Jazz World Trios album is a story. I had done Cuban Roots Revisited and I didn’t know it at the time, but I was suffering from diverticulitis - I lost a foot and a half of colon. I had constant stomach pain and fever becuase it’s an infection of the colon. I was really sick when I did Cuban Roots Revisited. I came back and I was really disappointed with the album, so I did an album called Three Deuces
with just guitar duets. Then I had this operation, I was feeling a lot better, and I decided that I want to record again. My friend Jean Paul was in town - Jean Paul is Haitian and he knows the Toques De Santos stuff through some Haitian religious tradition. So I got him in the studio with Milton Cardona. I actually tried to call Steve Berrios, but he was in Europe. So I went in the studio with Milton Cardona and we recorded those two long tracks of Babalu Aye and Elegua. But I didn’t know what to do with it.
I heard about Romero Lubambo and I got his phone number from somebody. I sent Romero the stuff that I had done with Jean Paul and I said, “I want to do the same thing with Brazilian stuff.” He was interested in the concept, which was extended form improvisation. I said to him, “What I want you to do is find me a very, very fundamental tune and then a really obscure bossa nova.” So he came over to my house and he brings me this tune - he didn’t even know the name of it. He said he thinks the name is Baião Grafino, this old, old folkloric baião. It’s actually a blues; it’s a three chord blues. He shows it to me and I said “Great.” He shows me the bossa nova and I said, “Great.” We were going to do the session and he said he was going to bring Cyro Baptiste.
On the way out, he says to me, “Oh, by the way, write me some changes.” You know, like a challenge. You want me to play with you? Show me that you know something. So I sit down and I write a whole bunch of substitutions. I write about three of four different kind of substitutions. The tune is in C and Romero says, “Since there is no bass player, I want to play with open strings.” Which means he wants to play the tune in E or A, right? I don’t want to do that - so the tune’s a blues; it’s C7, F7, Ab7, G7, those are the changes, right? So I write all of these sort of hip substitutions and I said, “But this isn’t going to satisfy him, because he wants open strings.” So I said, “I’ve got an idea - I’m going to play the melody in C, but the root isn’t going to be C, it’s going to be E.” So the C7 is actually an E altered. The F7, the root is A, so it’s an A altered, the Ab7 is a D and the G7 is the one chord that’s a chord. So I go into the studio and I say, “Alright, here’s the concept man. We’re going to play it in C, but the roots are E and A.” Romero looks at me like I’m crazy. He plays this beautiful introduction and I bring the melody in . . . twice as slow. What that does is just open it wide open, because what I really did is shocked him. The harmony was set up for extensions, and it showed him that I’m not just going to play the damn thing, I’m going to mess with you. Again, it became one of those things - 18 minutes later the tune was finished!
So that was literally the first time that I had ever played Brazilian music in my life. I just felt that it was natural; that Brazilian music was really my music, even more than Cuban music. Romero was very happy with the date too. I have funny time - Dave Valentin swings his ass off, Herbie Mann swings his ass off, every flute player swings his ass off. Not me. I float - my concept of time is the concept of the flute. I don’t play time like a sax player; I play time like a flute player. The flute is all the way up there, it’s a fast instrument. I play over the time; I don’t play in time, I play over the time. That works really, really well with Brazilian music, because that’s the way that they singers sing. The singers sing all loose in the music. I love Brazilian music.
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Make sure that you check out Part 1 of our conversation with Mark Weinstein where we discuss his early musical development, his time with Eddie Palmieri’s La Perfecta, and his relationship with Barry Rogers. Check it out HERE.
Don’t miss Part 2 of our discussion with Mark Weinstein, where we talk about the recording of Cuban Roots, his step away from the music business, and his evolution into a flautist. Check it out HERE.
Come back tomorrow for the last piece of our interview with Weinstein and hear about the creation of Tales From The Earth, Timbasa, and his future projects!
There’s a long list of influential musicians in the Latin Jazz world, but there’s a short list of musicians that single-handedly altered the course of the music. Important composers have changed formal structures in Latin Jazz, injecting traditional rhythms with jazz harmonies and different beliefs about improvisation. These musicians are known for their individual contributions to the music, but in reality, their discoveries came from years of experimentation, trial, and error. Once they heard musicians play their music, they would make changes, slightly tweaking their concept until they pushed things in a new direction. Significant bandleaders have lead the way into genre altering performance approaches, creating new artistic settings and pursuing the music through different contexts. These band leaders brought new ideas out of their sidemen and formed new collectives that showed the world a completely different view of Latin Jazz. While these individuals may have delivered the concept, they required the collaborative effort of their band mates to bring it to life - their ideas only came to fruition through the collective workshop efforts of their band. When we think of most major figures in the Latin Jazz world, we remember the work that they did in collaboration with their peers - in all cases, this work represents an admirable task. Still, the few individuals that took the Latin Jazz world and turned it upon its ear represent major milestones in the history’s music.
Giovanni Hidalgo was born in Puerto Rico forty seven years ago today on March 9, 1963, coming into the world destined to change the percussion world forever. Born in a house full of drummers, Hidalgo spent his childhood immersed in percussion instruments and rhythmic ideas. He practiced technical elements of the music and soaked in both folkloric and popular music, developing into a strong performer at an early age. He joined the innovative Puerto Rican salsa band Batacumbele in 1980 and quickly became a major part of their sound, as evidenced on important recordings from the band. In 1981, Hidalgo traveled with the band to Cuba and met the influential Cuban drummer José Luis Quintana, “Changuito.” The two musicians formed a quick bond, pushing each other into new heights of instrumental technique and artistic application. By the mid-eighties, Hidalgo’s technique had evolved into a completely new approach to the conga drums - from this point on, it’s pretty easy to classify conga technique before and after Hidalgo. The appeal of his music was not simply about technique though; Hidalgo displayed an unflappable musicality - a fact recognized by Eddie Palmieri, who hired the drummer in 1985. A few years later, Hidalgo became a vital member of Dizzy Gillespie’s United Nations Orchestra, making an important connection with the jazz legend. Over the years, Hidalgo became a smart band leader, recording several releases that highlighted his ability to complement the music through percussion. He joined Candido Camero and Carlos “Patato” Valdes to form the Conga Kings in 2000, releasing two unbelievable albums full of creative percussion work. As Hidalgo moves ahead in his career, he always guarantees awe-inspiring percussion work and an impressive dose of musicality.
In celebration of his birthday and an amazing career, we’re dedicating today’s Weekly Latin Jazz Video Fix to Giovanni Hidalgo, one of the genre’s master percussionists. Our first clip finds Hidalgo performing with a high energy group, backing up saxophonist David Sanchez and then trading riffs with drummer Henry Cole. The second video places Hidalgo in an amazing Latin Jazz descarga with harpist Edmar Castaneda, bassist John Benitez, pianist Elio Villafranca, and trombonist Reynaldo Jorge. The last snippet is a bit grainy, but it’s simply classic Hidalgo as Paquito D’Rivera features the percussionist. There’s some awe-inspiring percussionist work there from one of the best - enjoy!
———- Giovanni Hidalgo Performing With David Sanchez, Henry Cole, and More
Giovanni Hidalgo Performing With Edmar Castaneda, John Benitez, Elio Villafranco, and Reynaldo Jorge
Giovanni Hidalgo Performing With Paquito D’Rivera
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Want to hear more from Giovanni Hidalgo? Check out these albums: Villa Hidalgo
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Do you have a video to contribute to satisfy our weekly Latin Jazz video fix? If so, send it in - it’s time to feed our addiction. I’m looking for live performances, from any context. I’ll most likely be posting one video per week, but if you’ve got another idea, let’s talk. So come on Latin Jazz videographers, musicians, and fans - let’s share some of our memorable videos! Get my contact info HERE.
Latin Jazz This Week will bring you a weekly look into news from the Latin Jazz world. You’ll find new releases, recommended performances, web finds, and more. You can check out some current sounds in the Listening Center tab at the top of the page. Performance dates will be kept in the Live Latin Jazz tab at the top of the page.
NEWS
Keyboardist Bobby Espinosa died about a week ago at the age of 60, leaving behind an often overlooked legacy of great music. Espinosa was a member of the Latin Rock group El Chicano, one of the strong voices in Los Angeles Latin music during the seventies. While the group has a strong association with rock and pop, they also had some serious jazz roots, fueled by Espinosa - a fact that Felix Contreras points out intelligently over at NPR’s A Blog Supreme. Contreras gives a great overview of Espinosa and El Chicano, highlighting some very interesting jazz moments - he even embeds some videos to illustrate his point. Thanks to Contreras for helping us remember a master - check it out HERE.
Percussionist Mike Collazo also passed away in the last week, after a lifetime of performing with some of the great names in Latin Jazz and salsa. Well-known for his timbale work with Tito Rodriguez’s group, he also performed with Eddie Palmieri’s La Perfecta, as well as a number of New York salsa bands. In general Collazo stayed more on the salsa side of the equation, but he delivered a significant percussion voice that crossed realms. You can check out a nice write-up and streaming interview with Collazo over at Matin Cohen’s Congahead site - find it HERE.
Don’t forget - there’s a special deal going on for LJC readers in New York that might want to check out Pablo Aslan’s concert at the Rose Theater on March 26 & March 27. Just purchase your tickets online HERE and enter the promo code “Tango”. You’ll be entitled to a discount that goes up to 25% of the ticket price. Fans of tango-jazz will not want to miss this!
If you’re in the CARIBBEAN this week . . . LANNIE BATTISTINI WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 WHERE:Amadeus Bistro
350 Ave. Chardon
Hato Rey, Puerto Rico TIME: 7:00 p.m.
WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE:Varadero Seaside Grill
Marina Puerto Chico
Fajardo, Puerto Rico TIME: 8:00 p.m.
If you’re in EUROPE this week . . . SAMMY FIGUEROA & HIS LATIN JAZZ EXPLOSION WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE:Wacker Hall
Kanzelmüllerstrabe 94
D-84489 Burghausen Germany TIME: 8:00 p.m.
If you’re on the EAST COAST this week . . . ARTURO O’FARRILL
Solo Piano WHEN: Wednesday 3/17/10 WHERE:Puppet’s Jazz Bar
481 5th Avenue Park Slope
Brooklyn, NY TIME: 7:00 p.m. TICKETS: $10
ARTURO SANDOVAL WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE:Carpenter Theater
612 E. Grace Street
Richmond, VA TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $17 - $75
BOBBY CARCASSES WHEN: Thursday 3/11/10 WHERE:Jazz Gallery
290 Hudson Street
New York, NY TIME: 9:00 p.m. & 10:30 p.m. TICKETS: $20
BOBBY SANABRIA
Big Band WHEN: Wednesday 3/10/10 WHERE:Fonda Boricua Lounge
172 East 106th Street
New York, NY TIME: 7:30 p.m. & 9:30 p.m. TICKETS: $10
CHI CHI GLASS WHEN: Tuesday 3/9/10 WHERE:Tutuma Social Club
164 East 56th Street
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. & 10:30 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
CHICO O’FARRILL’S AFRO-CUBAN JAZZ ORCHESTRA WHEN: Sunday 3/14/10 WHERE:Birdland
315 W. 44th Street
Manhattan, NY TIME: 9:00 p.m. & 11:00 p.m. TICKETS: $30
CHRIS WASHBURNE & S.Y.O.T.O.S. WHEN: Sunday 3/14/10 WHERE:Smoke
2751 Broadway
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m., 10:00 p.m. & 11:30 p.m. TICKETS: $20 minimum
CURTIS BROTHERS WHEN: Thursday 3/11/10 WHERE:Nuyorican Poet’s Cafe
236 East 3rd Street
New York, NY TIME: 9:00 p.m. TICKETS: $7
EDDIE PALMIERI
Eddie Palmieri/Brian Lynch Quartet WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 - Sunday 3/14/10 WHERE:Iridium Jazz Club
1650 Broadway
New York, NY TIME: 8:30 p.m. & 10:30 p.m. TICKETS: $35
ELEONORA BIANCHINI WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 WHERE:Tutuma Social Club
164 East 56th Street
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. & 10:30 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
ERIC KURIMSKI WHEN: Thursday 3/11/10 WHERE:Terraza Cafe
40-19 Gleane St
Elmhurst, NY TIME: 10:00 p.m. TICKETS: FREE
FRANK VILLAFAÑE & 3 TO CLAVE WHEN: Wednesday 3/3/10 WHERE:Moonstruck Restaurant
517 Lake Avenue
Asbury Park, NJ TIME: 7:00 p.m.
GABRIEL ALEGRIA WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 WHERE:Radisson Hotel
120 Main Street East
Rochester, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: Reserved Seats - $25; General Admission - $20
WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 - Sunday 3/14/10 WHERE:Tutuma Social Club
164 East 56th Street
New York, NY TIME: Friday & Saturday: 8:00 p.m. & 10:30 p.m.; Sunday: 7:00 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
GREG DIAMOND WHEN: Monday 3/8/10 WHERE:Chom Chom
40 W 56th Street
New York, NY TIME: 7:00 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
HENDRIK MUERKENS WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 WHERE:Bar Next Door
129 MacDougal Street
New York, NY TIME: 7:00 p.m. & 9:00 p.m. TICKETS: $12
LUCIA PULIDO WHEN: Tuesday 3/9/10 WHERE:Galapagos Art Space
16 Main Street
Brooklyn, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $15
WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE: Ukrainian National Home
120 2nd Avenue
New York, NY TIME: 7:30 p.m. TICKETS: $10
PAQUITO D’RIVERA WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 WHERE:Peter Jay Sharp Theatre
2537 Broadway
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $35 in advance; $40 on day of show
African American Classical Music Award 20th Anniversary Scholarship Benefit Concert WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE:Nicholas Music Center - Rutgers University
85 George Street
New Brunswick, NJ TIME: 7:00 p.m. TICKETS: $35 - $100
SOFIA REI KOUTSOVITIS WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 WHERE:Great Stair Hall - Philadelphia Museum Of Art
2600 Benjamin Franklin Parkway
Philadelphia, PA TIME: 5:30 p.m. TICKETS: $16 Museum Admission
WILLIE MARTINEZ WHEN: Tuesday 3/9/10 - Saturday 3/12/10 WHERE:Dizzy’s Club Coca-Cola
33 West 60th Street
New York, NY TIME: Tuesday - Thursday: 11:00 p.m.; Friday - Saturday: 12:45 a.m. TICKETS: $10 - $20
If you’re in the MID-EAST this week . . . CHEMBO CORNIEL WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 - Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE:Jazz Café
350 Madison Avenue
Detroit, MI TIME: 8:30 p.m. & 10:30 p.m. TICKETS: $27
DARWIN NOGUERA EVOLUTION QUARTET WHEN: Tuesday 3/9/10 WHERE:Andy’s Jazz Club
11 E. Hubbard Street
Chicago, IL TIME: 9:00 p.m. TICKETS: $10
LOS GATOS WHEN: Wednesday 3/10/10 WHERE:Live At PJ’s
102 S 1st St
Ann Arbor, MI TIME: 8:00 p.m. & 9:15 p.m. TICKETS: $7
PAULINHO GARCIA WHEN: Wednesday 3/10/10 WHERE:Piccolo Mondo
1642 E. 56th Street
Chicago, IL TIME: 6:00 p.m.
TUMBAO BRAVO WHEN: Sunday 3/14/10 WHERE:Sangria’s
401 South Lafayette Avenue
Royal Oak, MI TIME: 9:30 p.m. TICKETS: $5
If you’re on the WEST COAST this week . . . BANDA BROTHERS
Tribute To Francisco Aguabella WHEN: Tuesday 3/9/10 WHERE:Steamers Jazz Club
138 W. Commonwealth Avenue
Fullerton, CA TIME: 8:30 p.m. TICKETS: $20
BRIAN ANDRES LATIN JAZZ TRIO WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE:Havana Sol Restaurant
324 Virginia Street
Vallejo, CA TIME: 9:30 p.m. TICKETS: $10
FRANCISCO AGUABELLA WHEN: Wednesday 3/3/10 WHERE:Steamers Jazz Club
138 W. Commonwealth Avenue
Fullerton, CA TIME: 8:30 p.m. TICKETS: $8
JOHN SANTOS SEXTET WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE:San Mateo Public Library
55 W. 3rd Avenue
San Mateo, CA TIME: 3:00 p.m. TICKETS: FREE
KAT PARRA WHEN: Sunday 3/14/10 WHERE:Studio Pink House
14577 Big Basin Way, 2nd Floor
Saratoga, CA TIME: 4:00 p.m. TICKETS: $10
PETE ESCOVEDO WHEN: Sunday 3/14/10 WHERE:Mama Juana’s
3707 Cahuenga Blvd.
Studio City, CA TIME: 7:30 p.m. & 9:30 p.m. TICKETS: $20 in advance; $25 at the door
PONCHO SANCHEZ WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 WHERE: The Guest House
12500 Firestone Boulevard
Norwalk, CA TIME: 10:00 p.m.
WHEN: Saturday 3/13/10 WHERE:McIntyre Hall
2501 E. College Way
Mount Vernon, WA TIME: 7:30 p.m. TICKETS: $32 - $40
SCOTT MARTIN WHEN: Wednesday 3/10/10 WHERE:Vibrato Jazz Grill
2930 North Beverly Glen Circle
Los Angeles, CA TIME: 6:30 p.m.
WHEN: Friday 3/12/10 WHERE:Hip Kitty
502 W 1st St
Claremont, CA TIME: 8:00 p.m.
TANAORA WHEN: Sunday 3/14/10 WHERE:Coda Supper Club
1710 Mission Street
San Francisco, CA TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $10
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Our latest Spotlight Artist, saxophonist Oscar Feldman shares a lot about his life, community, and influences through the music on his latest album Oscar e Familia. He reveals a good deal of respect for his musical mentors, both alive and past, that tells a lot about his musical concept. From a tribute to straight-ahead jazz saxophone master Lee Konitz to an original piece from the great Brazilian composer Hermeto Pascoal dedicated to Feldman, the saxophonist shows how these musicians effected his life. Feldman creates a connection to his Argentinean heritage on several pieces, paying his respects to his cultural foundation. A sensitive arrangement of Astor Piazzolla’s “Triunfal” show Feldman’s connection to the traditional while Guillermo Klein’s bluesy “El Minotauro” places Feldman’s concept of Argentinean music in the present. Feldman also proves that he sits firmly within the contemporary jazz community as well, tackling several fusion-esqe pieces with style and ease. Wayne Shorter’s “Children of The Night” finds Feldman charging through a classic with a boppish intensity while his own funky piece “Mrs. Tangoholic” allows the saxophonist to push his band into a furious climax through his passion fueled improvisation skills. All these different musical angles combine into an exciting and engaging collection of performances, painting a defined and interesting picture of Feldman and his musical communities.
If you’re curious and you want to know Feldman, you’re in luck - there’s plenty of places to learn about Feldman and hear his music online. His website seems a bit out of date, but you can still get some good information about his discography, check out some audio, and more - find it HERE. There’s some nice streaming music, pictures, videos, and info on Feldman’s MySpace, so go add him as a friend HERE. Feldman keeps an active presence on Facebook, so head on over, send him a friend request, and write on his wall HERE. Feldman’s new release is out on the Sunnyside Records label, and the label is giving him some good support - check out their page for him HERE. There’s a lot of great opportunities out there to check out Feldman and his work, so don’t hesitate - there’s some good music waiting to be heard.
Feldman offers a personal view of his life and music on Oscar e Familia, with a broad Latin Jazz concept that includes Argentinean music, fusion, and more; it’s definitely worth a listen. In order to help you get to know Feldman a little better, I’ve included some bio information below from Feldman’s website. Keep on scrolling down and you’ll find a couple of videos - one featuring Feldman performing alongside Cuban saxophone great Paquito D’Rivera and another clip with Feldman’s quartet, featuring Horacio “El Negro” Hernandez, playing one of his original compositions, “Chachablu.” Enjoy!
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Oscar Feldman created quite an uproar by the end of the nineties with his impressive recording debut as a leader with El Angel.
Known for his splendid tonalities and melodically outstanding charts, the Argentinian native demonstrates his superb skills on alto, tenor and soprano saxes, while employing a wide range of Panamerican references, from straight ahead to tango to candombe to samba to mambo.
Feldman has extensive performance and recording experience, that ranges from straight ahead jazz, Brazilian, pop to fusion.
Mr.Feldman won the Outstanding Performance Award as the Best Soloist in fusion in Buenos Aires, 1986 and in 1992 the Achievement Scholarship Award from Berklee College of Music, where he graduated cum laude in 1995 with a Major in Professional Music.
Oscar has recorded and toured internationally as a lead alto with Paquito D’Rivera’s United Nations Orchestra, once led by the legendary Dizzy Gillespie.
In 1999 Oscar recorded the album Tropicana Nights, with a Big Band conducted by Paquito D’Rivera which received the Latin Grammy Award 2000 for “Best Latin Jazz Album“.
In 2000 he recorded the album he Grande Passion with guitar legend Al Di Meola and recently toured Europe and South Africa with Grammy winner and top producer/arranger Eumir Deodato.
Oscar has recorded and toured internationally with notable artists such as guitar legend Al Di Meola, Grammy winner and top producer/arranger Eumir Deodato, Jeff Tain Watts, Avantango, Paquito D’Rivera’s United Nations Orchestra, Alex Acuna at prestigious venues such as the Opera Vienna House, Jazz at Lincoln Center, Town Hall in New York, Park La Villette in Paris, the Blue Note as well as many International Jazz Festivals in Europe, the Americas and Africa.
Oscar toured in Spain with Bebo Valdes and His All Star Latin Jazz Band and most recently he performed in Greece.with his own band featuring Horacio “Negro” Hernandez. He recorded for the soundtrack of Ang Lee’s new movie Lust, Caution. Oscar toured Europe with Fusion Revolution together with Alex Acuna , Tom Kennedy and Otmaro Ruiz.
——– Oscar Feldman Performing With Paquito D’Rivera
Akokan
Roberto Fonseca Justin Time Records
At one time, Jazz existed as popular music; once it was pushed out of the popular spotlight by other types of music, the integration of pop ideas into jazz always spurred controversy. Traditionalists tried to push jazz away from the popular sphere into the art music world, but in reality, the line between traditional jazz and contemporary popular music continues to slowly erode. As more artists cross the line between these two realms, their approaches define the artistic level of their music. Some artists have tried to make serious artistic statements using rock rhythms and popular aesthetics; Herbie Hancock often embraces popular songs, creating ingenious modern jazz arrangements of the original material. This attempt at fusing pop and jazz results in amazing music and provides a serious legitimacy to potential combinations. Other artists simply make instrumental pop music for the masses, turning away traditionalists and confusing the general public. Latin Jazz experiences these same types of cross-pollinations between art and pop music worlds, as artists and audience members both seamlessly blur jazz and dance music. This creates a precarious situation for modern Latin Jazz artists reaching for something different. If they try to integrate aesthetics of contemporary popular music into their statements, they have to do so carefully and methodically in order to create an approach that has depth and meaning. Cuban pianist Roberto Fonseca brings together a mixture of jazz harmonies, Latin rhythms, and pop lyricism on Akokan, an appealing release filled with thoughtful integrity.
Anchoring Modern Jazz With A Cuban Foundation
Fonseca anchors his statement with a group of modern jazz performances with a foundation in Cuban music. A dramatic series of breaks leads into a racing melody from Fonseca on “Lento Y Despacio,” framed by lush chordal patches floating over an uptempo rumba. Fonseca charges into his improvisation with unrestrained abandon, matching the rhythm section’s intensity with long strings of rapid runs, syncopated rhythms, and a percussive attack. As he brings his solo to a close, Fonseca runs sparse ideas through a backdrop of only drums and percussion, invoking a furious musical conversation. As drummer Ramsés Rodriguez maintains a lone clave in the background, Fonseca plays quiet, introspective melody on “Cuando Uno Crece,” leading into a tense arrangement filled with interesting colors from the rhythm section. As the group disappears, bassist Omar González establishes a traditional vamp, and as Rodriguez joins with an interesting brush pattern, Fonseca leaps into his improvisation. The pianist displays a keen ability to mix jazz and Cuban influences, combining long fluid melodic lines and sharp rhythmic tipico ideas into an inspiring statement. Fonseca creates a somber and serious tone with a dark and understated introduction, leading into respectfully reverent interpretation of “Drume Negrita” from the pianist and clarinet player Javier Zalba. As the rhythm section opens into a forward motion, Zalba wraps playful bluesy melodies around the groove, finding a spirited soul to his improvisation. Fonseca moves into his solo thoughtfully, building a engagingly coherent statement upon the main theme, full of lyrical beauty. Fonseca displays a creative skill to produce inspired music in a modern Latin Jazz setting, moving through these pieces with style and ease.
Balancing Pop, Jazz, And Latin Rhythms
Several pieces find a balance between the aesthetics of popular music, jazz harmonies, and Latin rhythms. Fonseca tenderly interprets an uplifting melody unaccompanied on “Lo Que Me Hace Vivir” before setting up a gospel tinged groove which signals an enthusiastic entrance from the rhythm section. Fonseca revisits the melody, infusing it with a new lift through the help of a loose funky groove, before he bursts into a driving improvisation. As Fonseca moves further into his own statement, the rhythmic backdrop becomes more Cuban and he boldly explores tense harmonic colors. Fonseca places a simple and elegant melody over a sparse and richly colorful vamp on “Como en Las Películas,” as the rhythm section helps him create dramatic dynamic shape. González takes a lyrical approach to his improvisation, unassumingly constructing lyrically solid melodies against the harmony. Fonseca utilizes the contrast between space and sharp precise articulations to build tension in his solo, stretching into longer, more powerful lines. The rhythm section implies a steady groove with subtle shades as Fonseca carefully introduces the major melody on “La Flor Que No Cuidé,” soon joined on flute by Zalba. Gliding melodic runs interspersed with short percussive attacks help shape Zalba’s ideas into a full statement which rises and falls against the waves of color from the rhythm section. Fonseca utilizes a wide dynamic range on his improvisation, using textural contrast, dissonance, rapid flurries of chromatic runs, and a hard attack to push towards a strong climax. Fonseca frames easily digestible melodies that reflect the pop world with interesting harmonies and an improvisational jazz flair that make these songs both commercially viable and artistically engaging.
Strengthening The Bond With Vocalists
A number of vocalists join Fonseca’s group on some tracks, making a stronger bond with the popular world without loosing a connection to jazz. Vocalist Mayra Andrade and Fonseca travel through an elegantly simple melody over a sparse percussion backdrop on “Siete Potencias (Bu Kantu),” before the full sound of the rhythm section fills the space beneath the melody. González utilizes the full range of his instrument to construct lyrical lines with a forward push from strong syncopations. Fonseca performs with a intelligent restrain, creating slight tension with off-set repeated rhythms that lead smartly back into Andrade’s vocal. Abrupt attacks from the full band give way into Zalba’s funky repeated baritone sax riff and Rodriguez’s strutting second line feel, giving “El Ritmo De Tus Hombres,” the sensation of a New Orleans party. A screaming voice sends the group into high gear, as González lays down a thick bass line and Fonseca explodes into his improvisation. The pianist attacks the funky groove with sharp bursts of chordal sounds, pushing the song forward with bluesy articulations. The group provides a calm and unobtrusive background to Raul Midón’s English vocal on “Everyone Deserves A Second Chance,” working together with the singer to create a pop-tinged jazz approach. Fonseca wanders through the changes with slinky chromatic lines that remain lyrical with an edgy touch of dissonance. After a quick return to the melody, Midón jumps into a tasty guitar solo that integrates a Wes Montgomery influence, providing a nice sonic change in the song. The inclusion of vocals on these pieces adds a popular appeal to Fonseca’s work, but the performances remain strongly rooted in jazz ideals.
A Beautiful Combination Of Musical Aesthetics
Fonseca creates a beautiful combination of musical aesthetics on Akokan that smoothly brings together the strong points of jazz, pop music, and Latin rhythms. As a composer, Fonseca focuses upon simplicity and grace in his melodic content, giving his music a memorable and accessible quality. He adorns these attractive melodies with rich and modern chordal support, adding a distinct jazz quality to the compositions. Underneath this rich tapestry, Fonseca’s rhythm section liberally interprets Cuban structures with a touch of jazz freedom. This thoughtful blend of ideas reflects a Herbie Hancock influence, and like Hancock, Fonseca balances each pop quality with a jazz rooted artistic integrity. As a pianist, Fonseca reveals a connection to the modern jazz world, but at the same time, his touch and feel signals the influence of Cuban performers such as Chucho Valdes. He strikes an interesting balance as he improvises, generally starting from a modern lyricism, but always finding a way into an undeniably Cuban sense of phrasing. Fonseca’s use of vocalists adds a nice tonal color to the work, but never takes away from his main concept, always finding a blend between musical worlds. There’s a strong combination of musical elements on Akokan that consistently compliment each other musically and never strain the product artistically, making one more solid argument for thoughtful blends between jazz, pop, and Latin music.
As the road into the future becomes clear for a young musician, they become ready to make a serious artistic statement. Hard working musicians naturally develop their own ideas and become driven to create a personal statement; leading their own projects allows them to do this. Their artistic choices generally reflect the experiences of their early musical career - in many cases an artist may build upon their previous artistic direction, expanding upon current ideas. At other times, musicians will explore an absolutely new direction, giving them the opportunity to explore something that peaks their interest but was unavailable in earlier gigs. Most importantly, these original statements give the musician a chance to rise from the obscure fog of sideman work and present their identity in a very public space. This presents a real risk for the musician - the public will either accept or reject their project. Acceptance generally feels great, but rejection can shatter the new clarity for the musician. Regardless of the nature of the reaction, it fundamentally changes the musician’s future as they reconsider their prospects. Once again, the musician wades into a murky and unclear future, filled with uncertainty over their upcoming direction.
In the mid-sixties, Mark Weinstein was in the midst of a thriving career as a trombonist on New York’s active music scene. He worked professionally as both a bassist and a trombonist in his late teens, making connections with Larry Harlow and Harvey Averne. His reputation spread quickly and Weinstein soon found himself playing with one of the most vital Latin dance bands of the early sixties, Eddie Palmieri’s La Perfecta. Weinstein became fast friends with the group’s lead trombone player, the legendary Barry Rogers, who provided an inspiring musical role model. Weinstein’s musical tastes reached far beyond the Latin music world though, and driving him to pursue additional directions, including big band jazz and the avant-garde. After several years performing in multiple ensembles, Weinstein brought all the pieces of his interests together with a groundbreaking combination of avant-garde jazz and folkloric Cuban rhythms. The resulting album, Cuban Roots, showed strokes of brilliance far beyond its time - a little too far for much of the music community in the sixties. The album received little support from Musicor Records, resulting in a rough recording, minimal promotion, and no radio play. Over the following decades, Cuban Roots became a treasured album in the Latin Jazz world and beyond, but the initial rejection of the recording discouraged Weinstein. His path changed dramatically at that point, as he left music, returned to school, and entered the academic life of a college professor. As one door closed, another opened though, as Weinstein started on the road towards musical reinvention.
In the first part of our interview with Weinstein, we looked at his early musical development as well as his time with Palmieri and Rogers. This set the stage for Cuban Roots, a seminal milestone in Latin Jazz history that boldly looked ahead at the future of the genre. Although this should have been a highpoint in Weinstein’s budding career, the initial response turned him in the opposite direction. Today’s installment of our interview digs into the Cuban Roots recording session and Weinstein’s rejection of the music business.
———- LATIN JAZZ CORNER: After you came back from Europe, you were playing in the height of that Fania era, with the whole salsa craze. Between there and Cuban Roots, it seems like you developed an advanced harmonic sense and refined improvisation abilities. How did that come together since you were spending so much time playing dance music?
MARK WEINSTEIN: I never thought of myself as a Latin trombone player, I always thought of myself as a jazz trombone player. When I was playing jazz, I was part of the New York avant-garde movement. I remember there were these jam sessions with Pharoah Sanders and all of these great guys. I played with some of the weirdest avant-garde guys; a lot of really, really avant-garde bands. I played with trumpet player Bill Dixon - I’ll never forget one gig, it was a mass brass gig, and there were about five brass players, all in different parts of a church. All we had were goose egg notes, and the goose egg note wasn’t what you played. It was what anchored your playing and then you played completely free! So there were these five guys playing completely free who couldn’t see each other all at the same time, echoing in a church! So this was the kind of music that I was involved with. I was stretching myself harmonically, although it’s hard to do that on trombone because you can’t play fast enough to play the substitutions. So I was actually playing a lot of polytonal music. I was experimenting just playing what people hear as normal now. We were actually playing half-step substitutions and even in other keys.
That was the reason that I quit Herbie Mann’s band - it’s actually a funny story. We were recording the album that came out as Monday Night at the Village Gate. I had a number of features with Herbie’s band, including a feature on the tune “Summertime.” I had just recorded Cuban Roots with Chick on piano. Chick and I had a very intuitive relationship - listen to the way he comps behind my solos on Cuban Roots. So we were playing with Herbie’s band and I start this solo on a G# when the first chord is an Amin7. Chick ends up playing a Dbmin7 and Herbie cut the solo - it was too out for his band. When he cut the solo, I quit the band. After the recording, at the next gig, he told me, “Look, I’m sorry, I have to cut that solo. I really think that you’re playing too out for the tune.” And so I refused to play any more solos with his band. He had these things where the two trombone players would solo together and I would just stand there. The second night I did it, he came up to me and said, “I guess you just put yourself on notice.” And I said, “Right.” But by that time, I was starting to get enough of a reputation in New York that I felt that I could manage.
What had happened was I had so many Latin dance club gigs that I frequently had doubles. So I started giving my subs to jazz trombone players, mainly Julian Priester and Garnett Brown. In those days, you had to pay back, and the way they paid me back was to give me these big band gigs. After the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis band started Monday nights at The Village Vanguard, a couple of the clubs - especially a club called The Half-Note - had started to put in big bands, trying to capture The Village Vanguard scene. So Joe Henderson had a big band, Clark Terry had a big band, Duke Pearson had a big band, and Kenny Durham had a big band. The trombone sections for all these big bands were me, Garnett Brown, and Julian Priester, plus a bass trombone player. So I was really getting a reputation. I started to work some subs with the Thad Jones band, I worked with Maynard (Ferguson) for a minute, and then I did some subs with Lionel Hampton. I was moving out into jazz and I was always a very loud trombone player, because I still had the concept from the Latin bands of the trombone being a very forceful instrument. And I was always a very avant-garde player and I was always searching for ways to extend music. And then Cuban Roots was the way that I put all that stuff together in my head.
LJC:Cuban Roots was such an amazing record. If you put into context of the time, it was so different as to what else was going on . . .
MW: It still is!
LJC: Yea, definitely. It’s amazing how forward thinking that was. What was the process of putting Cuban Roots together and how did it come about?
MW: I loved Cuban drums and that’s why I made Cuban Roots. Again, it was partially me trying to be Barry Rogers. When Barry introduced me to Cuban folkloric music, I thought that drumming was so much more interesting than salsa band drumming of that period. Eddie had an amazing rhythm section, especially when they had Manny Oquendo and Tommy Lopez, Sr. - but still, I always wanted to play with rumba and I always wanted to play with the Toques De Santos because that’s where I thought Latin Jazz should go. I thought that drumming was want you needed for the sophisticated music that jazz players were playing. There are really two albums that Cuban Roots is based on - one of the very first LPs of folkloric music, the one that I mentioned, Carnival In Havana. Then there was an album of Toques De Santos, on a Cuban label called Orfeo that Barry also turned me onto. I really fell in love not only with the drums, but I fell in love with those melodies. I thought that those melodies were amazing - the melodies of the Toques De Santos, the prayers, and the rumba melodies. What I really wanted to do was transform that music by giving it an avant-garde setting. By re-harmonizing it and then to use the power of the drums in order to propel the kind of avant-garde playing. I made a demo CD, not with the guys that are on the record, but with some friends of mine, of a couple of the tunes. Edy Martinez, the Columbian pianist, played piano on it. I played it for Al Santiago, who was the producer behind Alegre Records. I had done quite a bit of work for him. I had done a number of recordings and arrangements for Kako, who was kind of the guy that he was pushing. When he heard the demo, he gave me a record date. So I hired the best guys I could get.
I got Julito Collazo to basically give me permission, because he was the guy that almost everybody considered to be the most knowledgeable guy in terms of religious music. A lot of the initial drummers thought that I was being sacrilegious, playing the Toques De Santos. In fact, the first rehearsal that I had for Cuban Roots, Tommy Lopez was playing conga drums and when the horns started to play the melody for Toque Chango, he stopped playing and told the drummers that they had to leave. By that time I had the record date, so I ran into Julito Collazo, who I knew from the Catskill Mountains, and I asked him if we could record this stuff. He said, “Sure, as long as the drums aren’t blessed.” So I called up Tommy and said “Julito’s doing the record date; are your willing to play on it?” Tommy jumped at the chance, because Julito was the guy who knew more about this music than anybody. So it was Tommy, Julito, and the third drummer was Papaíto, the timbale player from La Sonora Matancera, who was living in New York at that time. So these guys went into the studio out to kill. Kako was playing bell and palito, and then a friend of mine, Papiro, was in the studio because he had lent the guys some drums - he lent Julito a bomba. So he played on some of the tunes as a forth drummer.
The amazing thing about that album was we did it with one rehearsal, just one rehearsal. I had these long piano parts written out, these long, fold-out piano parts, and Chick Corea is sitting there - I’ll never forget this as long as I live - Chick Corea is sitting there in this little rehearsal studio with his left hand in his pocket - literally! Just playing vaguely the charts that I wrote with his right hand, but listening to those drummers. Trying to figure out what was going on. He had never heard anything like this in his life. I didn’t know who to use on bass. I could have used Bobby Rodriguez, but I felt that Bobby would be too dominant. Bobby was like a Barry Rodgers type guy, a very dominant personality. I was good friends with Bobby Valentin; I had played trombone on his original album. I knew Bobby had switched to bass. Bobby was, even when he was a kid, what he turned out to be - this amazing musician with great ears and a wonderful concept. So I asked Bobby if he would play bass. When Bobby heard the drummers, he didn’t know what to do either. No one had ever played bass with drummers like that!
So we had the one rehearsal and then we went into the studio. We recorded the entire album - this is no lie - we recorded the entire album in three hours. Every single tune is a first take. The sound of the album is horrible; the actual recorded sound is horrible. When we played down the first tune for the mic check, the sax player Arnie Lawrence, went into the booth and said, “Man, the horns sound horrible.” And Al Santiago said the famous line, “We’ll fix it in the mix. Get back in there, we’ve got to do that date.” The reason that we had to do the date so fast was that Al knew if the guy from Musicor showed up during the recording and heard what we were playing, he would pull the plug. And when we were playing the last tune, which was the comparsa, I saw him. He came into the studio, and he was basically saying, “Shut this damn thing down!” By the way, it was the 1960s so it local 802; it was all union, and we would have had to pay for overtime. So he wouldn’t let us go into overtime and so Al knew that that was going to go down - he just pushed us. Every tune that we recorded, he would just say, “Great! Next tune.” Not only that, but we were in such a small studio that they couldn’t even mix stereo because there was no separation whatso ever. Everything was bleeding into everything else, and I was a loud player. I was blasting, so he put a primitive limiter on my track, and that’s one of the reasons why my trombone sounds even funkier than usual.
Whoever bootlegged it in Japan, where it sells for about fifty bucks, they actually improved the sound amazingly. Five or six years ago, a guy called me up and asked me if I had a sealed vinyl; around that time Cuban Roots was selling for about five hundred bucks on E-Bay. I said, “No” and we started to talk. He was a collector and he told me that he had a sealed vinyl. So he arranged to put that vinyl onto a CD. He tried re-mastering it, but he didn’t get as good a sound as the Japanese. They really brought the bass up and got rid of some of the distortion. So now, the Japanese bootleg is a better sound than the vinyl!
What’s amazing about Cuban Roots is that it still is the album that people think of when they think of me, no matter how many records I make as a flute player. I think that now guys are starting to touch the stuff that I did. But, for example, when Andy and Jerry (Gonzalez), who were very influenced by Cuban Roots, put out that record, Grupo Folklorico Y Experimental, it wasn’t nearly as experimental as Cuban Roots was. In many respects, even I can’t duplicate what I did on Cuban Roots, although I tried. I tried with Cuban Roots Revisited, but I just can’t get the kind of energy playing flute that I got on trombone. The drummers on Cuban Roots . . . I mean, it was the first time that these guys ever got a chance to record this stuff. It was before Potato and Totico made their record - this was the first recording of that stuff ever made in the United States and those guys really wanted to lay it down. Plus, there was a lot of Cuban - Puerto Rican stuff. That’s some old stuff; it doesn’t exist anymore, thank god. The Cuban guys did not respect the Puerto Rican guys - Julito didn’t respect Tommy. So Tommy was trying to show Julito what he could do and Julito was trying to show Tommy that whatever he could do, that he could do it better. Once drummers get into that thing, it just escalates, so every tune on that album is just burning.
I now play with a lot of Cuban guys, and I’ve given Cuban Roots to a couple of the guys in their thirties, because I’m trying to find out if anyone in Cuba heard it. And I don’t think so My suspicion was - and I don’t think it’s true by the way anymore - that the Cuban piano players heard Chick playing on Cuban Roots, because the generation of piano players that played with Irakere, were playing like Chick played on Cuban Roots. All of the new Cuban piano players play that kind of free way of playing. Chick did it first. He did it intuitively. I’m not claiming that there’s any connection - Cuban Roots never got any airplay, so it was never played in Miami, and it was probably never heard in Havana. But Chick really figured out that you could play piano freely against those drums. If you try to play a guajeo against such heavy drums, it just gets in the way, because you’re duplicating what the drummers are doing. So he came up with this idea of accenting and using short little patches of swing.
LJC: You dropped out of music for a while and went back and got your PhD. How long did you actually stop playing and when you came back in playing the flute, you had a totally different priority on the flute that emphasized freedom over technique - how did you go into that?
MW: I had a chance to put a horn section together for Janis Joplin. I had done some gigs with a great blues guitar player, Mike Bloomfield - the blues guitar player on super session. He had a band called the Electric Flag. So I did some gigs with them in the city and I was supposed to join the Electric Flag - but the band broke up. So Albert Grossman, who was the manager of Dylan and all those guys, called me and asked me to put a horn section together for Janis Joplin. But that would have meant moving to San Francisco by myself and living in the band house. My daughter was just born, and I knew that that would break up my rather shaky marriage. So I turned down the gig. When I turned down the gig, I sort of looked myself in the eye and said, “You just turned down the best thing that you’ll probably every get as a musician. So why do you think you’re a musician?” And I said, “I guess I’m not.” I didn’t stop playing - I had to support my family. But in my head I stopped being a musician. That’s when I went to graduate school to get PhD in Philosophy.
I didn’t play at all from 1971 - 1973. That’s when I was taking courses, and of course, I was always teaching as an adjunct. That means you’re teaching four or five course a week - I had to make money, so there was no music. Then I got a full-time job, I didn’t need to play anymore to make money, and I was sort of all depressed. I ended up getting divorced and then needed something to occupy myself. So I said to myself, “What wind instrument can you play jazz on, but not make a living on?” I didn’t want to be enticed back into the music business. So I said, “I know, I’ll play the flute.” So I initially started to play the flute just to keep my head straight during a period of intense life change when I was writing a dissertation and trying to get my career jump started.
One of the things that really always bothered me about my trombone playing was that I was incredibly, incredibly self-critical. I probably caught the virus from Barry - I never thought that I was playing good enough. So when I started to play the flute, I said to myself that “I’m going to love the way I play.” And I couldn’t play! I didn’t take lessons, I just had a flute. But I was going to accept whatever I played on the instrument. I didn’t even know the right fingerings. I played for two years before I learned that in the third octave you have to play the fingerings differently. I would play the third octave just by over blowing and playing harmonics. I was just using the flute as an expressive vehicle. I was recently divorced, it was the 1970s, so I used to play out in the parks a lot. In part, to try to meet young hippy ladies. And I did every once in a while . . . not as much as I wanted, but it was pretty nice. I was playing flute by myself and everyone kind of left me alone, because it was very solitary and I was playing free. But if a guitar player was sitting there, I would sit down next to the guitar player, and just play three chord jams. And then people would sit around, and maybe I’d get lucky. The only way I could do that was to just sit down and start playing with guitar player, usually without even saying anything to them. So that meant that no matter what the guitar player was playing, I always had to sit in immediately. You know, guitar players play in E and they play in A, and they play non-bebop keys. From playing with guitar players, I got really good hand-ear coordination. I could take out my flute, no matter what anyone was playing, and play along. Part of it was that the harmonies were very simple. But since I was a jazz musician and I was playing in E and A which are uncomfortable keys, I started to experiment playing extensions, because the extension notes were more natural to play on the flute than the key notes. Tthe extension notes give you all the sharp nines, the flat nines, and all of that stuff, so I started hearing how to play out against very standard changes. I got so involved in the flute, that by the time I was playing three years, I wanted to get back into the music business. That’s when I recorded this thing that I call The Orisha Suites.
Then I had this funny experience; after I made The Orisha Suites. I played it for Randy Brecker, who was running a club named Seventh Avenue South, and he gave me a gig. I put a band together with a mallet player and three drummers that included Tommy Lopez again and Eddie “Gua Gua” (Rivera) playing bass. This guy comes up to me during the gig, and says, “Wow, you sound great, would you be a featured soloist in my jam session?” This guy was Mike Morgenstern, who was running a jam session with something called New York Jazz Society. I said, “Sure.” So I go down, he gives me this big build-up, and I have to play the first solo. It was a jam session so there was a line of saxophone players. They started to play a tune that I didn’t know; but I had a lot of confidence that I could play anything from playing with guitar players. Of course, I didn’t realize that it doesn’t translate very well into hard, complicated changes of jazz tunes. During the first chorus I was fumbling trying to find the right changes and the first sax player in line literally pushes me with his hip away from the microphone! At that point I realized that playing free with guitar players was not going to teach me how to play jazz. That’s when I started going down to Washington Square Park and learning how to play bebop. Then I discovered Jamey Aebersold and I started to play with Jamey Aebersold records. But I was always experimenting harmonically and always trying to play with the freedom that I had either brought to playing by myself or playing with these rock and roll guitar players, you know these acoustic folk-rock guitar players.
I never tried to sound like any flute player, which is both my strength and my weakness. I paid no attention to the way that anybody else played jazz flute and I just tried to find what I had to contribute. That was the deal that I had with myself - that I would not be self-critical and that I would instead just let my music express itself. And this worked pretty well until I started to try to record and realized that I was not playing flute very well. Then I started the process that I’m still engaged in now of trying to figure out how to play that damn instrument, you know, in terms of sound production and stuff like that. Part of the problem with me and the flute is that most flute players start playing some time around 8, 9, or 10 years old. It’s light, so a little kid can play it. Good players start so young, that their muscles grow while they’re playing the flute. I didn’t start playing the flute until I was 33 years old and I had a trombone embouchure; I had trombone muscles. I mean, now, I don’t play anything except for long tones, scales, and technical exercises. I never practice jazz. All I do is try to play the damn flute, because it’s a very, very difficult instrument and I don’t have the natural sound production capability that comes from learning flute at an early age. So flute for me, is now, is just hypercritical- just playing long tones and listening to my sound, and learning how to play in tune on the flute. It’s a monster instrument. But when I solo, when I play, I still try to play with complete abandon.
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Make sure that you check out Part 1 of our conversation with Mark Weinstein where we discuss his early musical development, his time with Eddie Palmieri’s La Perfecta, and his relationship with Barry Rogers. Check it out HERE.
Come back next Wednesday when we jump into Weinstein’s current career as a flautist, covering great albums such as Con Alma and the amazing new release Timbasa!
For many young musicians, the future lies ahead like a foggy mist, filled with uncertainty but packed with the inevitable reality that it will arrive. At the early stages of their careers, musicians can only move towards the mist, embracing the unknown in a quest for clarity. Each experience along the way provides a bit more definition to their future, paving the wave towards an musical focus and a burning artistic passion. As the musicians wind through the twists and turns of paying their dues, the highs and lows of early gigs sometimes give an uneven perspective on the future, but each performance leaves a memorable mark upon the artist’s consciousness. Sometimes musicians garner clarity through the associations that they make during the early stages of their career, building relationships that effect both their personal and professional lives. They create these associations with mentor figures that provide leadership and inspiration, but also with their musical peers who work in the trenches alongside them. Regardless of the relationship’s foundation, the time shared with each contact provides important insights that help the musician form their artistic vision. Along the way, the musician develops ideas and focus that open a clear road into the future, leading them towards a defined future. The path may change direction over time, and their musical focus may evolve over time - one thing becomes certain though, the foggy mist rises and the musician sees future possibilities. At that point, its up to the musician to take action, move ahead and develop the future possibilities.
Now a major voice in Latin Jazz through important recordings such as Cuban Roots and Con Alma, Mark Weinstein spent the early part of his career finding his way into a larger future. Following a natural inclination for music, Weinstein moved through several different instruments before finding his voice on the trombone. He developed strong technical and musicianship skills quickly and began working professionally in his mid-teens. Doubling on trombone and bass, Weinstein built a firm understanding of Latin music while working with an early version of pianist Larry Harlow’s group. Through a chance sub gig, Weinstein earned a spot in one of the early incarnations of pianist Eddie Palmieri’s now legendary La Perfecta band. Weinstein’s musical abilities were a perfect match for Palmieri’s combustable spontaneity and endless energetic drive. During his time in La Perfecta, Weinstein also worked alongside one of the most recognizable voices in Latin music, Barry Rogers. An amazing soloist, a powerful performer, and a musician with a defined artistic vision, Rogers served as a mentor and friend to Weinstein, providing valuable lessons about music. All of these early experiences set the stage for some amazing music that Weinstein would develop in the near future.
Weinstein participated in some important moments in Latin music history during his early days as a musician before he turned around and created major musical milestones himself. With Cuban Roots ahead of him, an unsuspecting switch to the flute imminent, and a mind-boggling musical output late in life, these early days were just the start of an amazing career. In the first part of our extensive interview with Mark Weinstein, we dig into his early musical development, his time with Palmieri, and his relationship with Barry Rogers.
———- LATIN JAZZ CORNER: You started playing piano at age six and then moved onto clarinet and drums; where you raised in a musical environment and what was it that got you into playing music at an early age?
MARK WEINSTEIN: My brother, who is 16 years older than me, was a sailor during World War II, and I worshiped him. He was a trombone player . . . my family is full of trombone players. My nephew Dan Weinstein is a working trombone player out in Los Angeles. He actually played trombone in part because of me - his father wanted him to play violin, but he sort of looked up to me. Anyway, my brother was a trombone player and we had a piano in the house since my brother was a musician. So that was basically what started it. My sister played flute and bassoon. My father, although he was a laborer, played violin when he was a boy; later in his life, he always used to play harmonica. My mother’s brother was a klezmer trumpet player in Poland and my mother claimed that her grandfather played bass in the orchestra of the Czar . . . that may be a family legend or it may be true! So I have musicians on both sides of the family.
LJC: So was it your brother that inspired you to move onto trombone when you were 14?
MW: My father had died and we went out to visit my brother the summer when I turned 14 - that was right before I started high school. He started me on trombone and the high school bands always want trombone players. So they were perfectly happy to give me the instrument of my choice. I started to play trombone at a high school called Erasmus Hall High School in Brooklyn. By the time I was fifteen I was gigging. By the time I was a senior in high school, I was a ringer in the Brooklyn College Jazz Stage Band that was being run by Larry Harlow - that’s how I met him. In those days there were very few jazz bands at colleges, but he was co-leading that band. There was only one trombone player, and that was me. I ended up actually being a featured soloist in the band even though I was just a high school student.
The summer that I graduated, I got a gig in the Catskill Mountains. In those days, trombone players had to double on bass. So I bought a bass - that was the only way that I could get the gig - and I learned how to play it. Then I started working with Latin bands - I worked with a band led by Randy Carlos and another band led by a guy who called himself Arvito; he was actually Harvey Averne, the producer of some great Latin records - he produced Eddie Palmieri’s The Sun of Latin Music. Larry Harlow was the piano player in those bands. Then Larry started to work with a trio and I was playing bass in the trio. There’s a funny story about that - I used to practice trombone out in the back of the club that faced out onto a big swamp - it was in the back part of Brooklyn that wasn’t developed at all. One day I’m practicing and this guy comes over to me, this real slim guy, and he asks me if I’m the trombone player in the show band. I said, “No, I’m the bass player in the Latin trio.” He said, “Too bad.” I said, “Why?” He said, “Because I’m the star of the show and one of my main numbers needs a trombone player.” It turns out that this show was a female impersonator show, and this guy did a take on Pearl Bailey. He did a song called “I’m Tired,” which is actually the song in Blazing Saddles that the lady sings. I got the gig. In the middle of the song, the trombone player had to play an attitude filled loud note and then he called me out onto the stage holding my music to practice the part. Then he would come out in front and run from me, and then I would chase him around, hitting him in the ass with the slide. The amazing thing is that because of that, at the age of 18 or 19, I ended up playing a class A show gig on trombone, making great money. So I dropped bass and started to work on trombone.
LJC: So those early gigs before you were working with Harlow, was that all on bass?
MW: Yea. One summer Larry had a gig in the Catskills Mountains with a conjunto - two trumpets, and I was playing bass. One of the trumpet players played bass, so he would let me do a feature number on trombone. It was a novelty - in those days, no one was using trombone. I don’t even know if Larry knew about Eddie at this point. So I would play some features on trombone. A couple of years later when Larry formed his own quintet - again in the Catskills Mountains - he used me as the only horn. It was trombone and rhythm section. And that’s when Larry decided to put a band together with trumpets and trombones. I wrote a great many of his first arrangements. His second album was pretty much all my arrangements. Then I had this association with Larry on and off through my entire career. Even after I stopped playing, I wrote some charts for Larry.
LJC: When you joined Eddie Palmieri’s band, that was on the early edge of La Perfecta, right?
MW: Barry Rogers, who was playing with Eddie Palmieri, had a very high paying gig, and he needed a sub for Palmieri. They were based in the Bronx and I was from Brooklyn. That was like East and West, you know, it was like a wall, so we hadn’t met. He heard about this trombone player in Brooklyn who could read and play Latin bass, so he called me to do a sub for him with Eddie’s band. I did the gig and Eddie hired me on the spot as a second trombone. That’s how I started being a Latin trombone player.
I was with his first La Perfecta band. He had recorded the album that has that famous picture with the car and me holding the trombone. I wasn’t on that album - João Donato, the Brazilian pianist who is also a trombone player was the other trombone player. He living in New York in those days, but he had gone back to Brazil. When Eddie took the picture for the album, he wanted the picture to show his working band. That’s the graphical record of me playing with the band.
I worked with Eddie until 1963, about two years. Then I went to Europe - I wanted to be a jazz musician. That didn’t work out. When I came back about eight months later, trombone had become the hottest thing, but there were no trombone players around. Barry was locked in with Eddie and Jose Rodriguez by this time was the main second trombone player. I ended up working with just about every other Latin band in the city. I worked a lot with Charlie Palmieri, Eddie’s brother. Charlie had a charanga band, and when Eddie’s band hit, he switched to horns. He had a three trumpet and two trombone band. Again, I wrote some of his early charts. I played with Charlie, and I did club dates with just about every band that had a trombone player. Barry, Jose, and myself became the trombone players for recordings. I did a whole bunch of recordings with Tito Puente during that period, when he used trombones.
LJC: When you were playing with Palmieri, you worked alongside Barry Rogers, a figure that is really admired in the Latin music community, but there’s not a whole lot out there about him. Could you let us know what Barry was like as a person and a musician - what was it like working with him at that time?
MW: This is complicated - I always had this love/hate relationship with Barry. He was my best friend . . . literally. He was my best friend, our wives were best friends; we were very, very close. But Barry or Eddie would never let me take solos. Barry was a musical perfectionist. The band had to be run exactly the way he wanted it run. So it was very frustrating to me because I always wanted to be a soloist. I would stand there just playing the vamp over and over and over and over again while Barry would be playing these magnificent improvisations which was really what made La Perfecta. It’s something that you don’t hear on the recordings. What would happen was during the montuno, Barry would sing coro. When Ismael Quintano was doing his pregon, Barry would call me over and sing a riff in my ear very softly, moving his arm to show me how to play it on the slide, where the smears were, and how to get it just the way he wanted it. I would have two shots, and after two shots, I had to have it down. And that was one of the reasons why I hung onto the gig - because I could do that with Barry. I would play the riff while the singers were still singing. Then Barry would start to double the riff and then he would play the riff in harmony. Then he would start to improvise almost dixieland style over what I was playing. This would go on sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes. People would go crazy because Barry would be playing all this great stuff. But all that I was doing was playing this original vamp. Barry made it very, very clear that I was not allowed to move off the vamp.
The trombones stood right in the front of the band, and the drums were in the back, Cuban conjunto style. I always felt that everyone was staring at me, wondering why I wasn’t playing any of the solos. It didn’t turn out that way; no one made that distinction - the trombones were just playing. But to me, every night on the band was more of a put-down. Eddie knew that, so he would let me take a solo on a merengue or a bolero, but he would never let me do the real thing. What I was learning at that point - I didn’t realize it myself, being an egotistical, young, arrogant guy who was feeling slighted - but what I was doing was learning more about playing music by listening to Barry’s solos than you could ever learn anywhere in the world. Like I said, Barry was a perfectionist and everything he played was musically flawless. I really learned an awful lot listening to Barry. Although I never really sounded like Barry, he influenced my playing enormously. On some of my early records with Harlow, where I was the featured soloist, you can hear the tremendous influence that Barry had on my playing. I was always more of a technical player and an avant-garde player than Barry, but I really didn’t come into my own until I joined Herbie’s band. Playing with Chick and playing with a jazz band, I really started to extend my playing, like I did in Cuban Roots. My playing by that point is harmonically more advanced than a lot of guys were playing at that time, even more advanced than my Latin band recordings.
Also, neither Barry nor Eddie ever gave me what I really felt I needed from them in terms of acceptance because of Cuban Roots. When Eddie heard Cuban Roots, the only thing he ever said to me was, “How come you didn’t use Charlie?” I think what he really meant was “How come you didn’t use me?” But that was all he ever said. When Barry heard Cuban Roots, we had a little party in my house - not a CD release party, but just a party to celebrate the CD coming out. Barry loved my wife’s cooking, but I dragged him into a back room and made him listen to Cuban Roots. After he listened to it all the way through, he said, “I’m going to go eat.” That was it. I had all this resentment because I really felt that Cuban Roots was a good album, but the two musicians that I respected the most - Eddie and Barry - never really gave my any type of positive response.
In a funny way - I know this sounds crazy - but that helped me out of the music business. I felt that I had done the best thing that I could do and I still wasn’t getting the kind of response that I wanted from the musicians that I worshiped. So I said the hell with it, and I went and got a PhD - if Barry Rogers didn’t like my record, then I’m going to become a doctor of Philosophy! That gives you a sense of how much I thought of him. For Barry to have liked that record would have been the most important thing in the world to me. Then I really didn’t run into him actually until I made the Orisha Suites. I played the Orisha Suites for him and he responded by saying, “Why don’t you let me produce your next record?” And again, nothing else.
It wasn’t that he was mean spirited . . . let me put it in perspective. When I started to join Eddie’s band, Barry brought me over to his house and he only played two records for me - as if those were the only two records that I should listen to if I wanted to learn how to play Latin music. One was Chappotin’s Sabor Tropical with Miguelito Cuni - that was probably one of the greatest conjunto records of all time. The other was the Carnival In Havana record - a pre-Castro recording of rumbas and congas with a trumpet player called La Florecita playing with the drummers. This guy was like the Louie Armstrong of Cuban music. I worked a lot with Chocolate in Harlow’s band; if you mentioned La Florecita to Chocolate, he would fall on the floor and worship. This guy was the most amazing trumpet player. The record was actually re-released on CD some years later, and Andy Gonzalez wrote the liner notes for the re-release, saying that this is the greatest recording of rumba and congas ever made. He mentions the fact that the album was so influential because I recorded four or five of the tunes from it on Cuban Roots. Those two records, which are amazing records, were the only two records that Barry wanted me to listen to. Barry’s idea of music was that if it wasn’t the absolute best, it didn’t count.
The result was that Barry himself was very unhappy about music most of his life. He never met his own standard. An indicator of that, when he recorded the album with The Brecker Brothers, also a very, very rare album from the sixties, and album called Dreams, where he did a lot of the horn arranging, he never takes a solo. He never takes a solo on the entire album. I’m convinced that the reason he wouldn’t take a solo is that he was in a band with Michael and Randy Brecker, and his soloing wasn’t up to it. Barry, for a guy who’s probably one of the major voices in the 1960s, he has no solos recorded to speak of. He has eight bar solos with Eddie here and there, and he has some solos on the Alegre All-Stars album. He never recorded an album of his own. He could have gotten a record album just by calling any producer in the world and asking them if they would produce him. He had the absolute respect of every single musician that played with him. There was nobody who didn’t respect Barry, except maybe Barry himself, who always felt that his playing was inadequate.
He always had chop trouble. When we would record with Tito, with three trombones, I’d always play lead, and he’d always play third trombone - I mean, he had a beautiful, beautiful low register - but he’d always play third trombone and Jose would play second. Barry would never play lead - he would always ask me to play lead because he was always afraid that he would crack a high note. He never had the security on the trombone that even I had. A lot of it was this total perfectionism.
One of the influences that he had on my development as a musician, was that I sort of internalized that standard. Now, it’s not that I think that my playing is in that category, but that’s what you strive for. You don’t strive to just play, you strive to model yourself against the absolute best musicians. You just hold that Holy Grail up in front of you as a beacon to what you’re trying to achieve as a musician. And that’s really what I got from Barry. Barry was one of the greatest musicians that I’ve ever played with in my entire life - I put him up there with Chick Corea in terms of natural ability, musicality. He had incredible musicality, plus, he was a lunatic. He was always fixing things. He was always fixing amps; during the set, he would be adjusting things. He would be bossing people around - things had to be perfect with Barry.
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Make sure that you check out Part 2 of our conversation with Mark Weinstein as we look into the development and recording of Cuban Roots, as well as Weinstein’s movement towards the flute. Check it out HERE.
We often hold a small group of musicians on a pedestal as legends - a fair deal, since most of these artists deserve the title; unfortunately, we inevitably leave out a musician that has left a great influence upon the Latin Jazz world. Most Latin Jazz fans would agree that Tito Puente, Eddie Palmieri, Israel “Cachao” Lopez, and Bebo Valdes have all earned legendary status, through their decades of steady performance and significant innovations in the genre. We can point to important recordings that spread the music’s popular appeal or signaled a major turning point in artistic directions. Personal memories often hold these artists near to our hearts, based upon exciting concerts we attended or the large impact that the artists held in our lives. If we’re lucky enough, we might even have memories of these musicians as people that we knew as friends or fellow musicians. The musicians that have effected out lives in these ways become legends to us, but what about similar that have escaped our notice? There are definitely artists from other countries that have put the same sort of time into Latin Jazz, and they enjoy legendary status in their homelands. Perhaps a chance encounter with these musicians would capture our imaginations and cement their reputations into our consciousness. These musicians deserve the opportunity to earn our respect and share the music that made them legendary.
Bobby Carcassés is a legend in Cuba, an artist that has made a major impact upon the island’s jazz scene and certainly deserves greater recognition worldwide. Born in Kingston, Jamaica, in 1938, Carcassés moved to Cuba at the age of four and quickly became interested in the island’s popular music, soaking up the sounds of artists such as Beny Moré. In his teens, Carcassés began working as a vocalist, joining several a-cappella groups and eventually becoming employed at the legendary Tropicana Nightclub. He left the island in the sixties, moving to Europe, where he performed alongside musicians such as Bud Powell and Kenny Clarke. A return to Cuba found Carcassés working in radio and television, as well as leading his own jazz group. Over the following decade, Carcassés built his reputation and became a key figure in the establishment of the Havana Jazz Festival. He helped organize the first festival in 1980, bringing together musicians from Cuba and the United States into what would become one of the island’s most treasured events. He traveled to the States, Europe, and Canada during the nineties, and in 1998, he released Jazz Timbero, an impressive release that included some of Cuba’s best jazz musicians including Chucho Valdes, Jose “Changuito” Quintana, Cesar Lopez, and more. Carcassés continued to stay busy recording and performing, appearing on Canadian saxophonist Jane Bunnett’s Cuban Odyssey and Del Pasado al Presente from The Cuban Masters Ensemble. His most recent release, De La Habana a Nueva York brings the vocalist and trumpet player together with Stateside Cuban musicians such Dafnis Prieto, Osmany Paredes, Yosvany Terry, and more. Carcassés made his mark upon Cuba’s jazz scene, rightfully earning the legend title, a symbol of respect that should translate to the Latin Jazz scene worldwide.
Carcassés deserves some recognition, and the fantastic music on De La Habana a Nueva York should help that happen. In recognition of Carcassés’ lifetime of work, we’re dedicating today’s Weekly Latin Jazz Video Fix to him. The first clip finds Carcassés performing one of his pieces, “Blues Para Beny Moré,” alongside flautist Orlando “Maraca” Valle in Guatemala. The second video places Carcassés with another great Cuban musician, pianist Roberto Fonseca, as the two join a group for a descarga in Havana. The last snippet shows Carcassés performing another one of his pieces, “Blues Para Chano Pozo,” with his group - the audio is a bit funky on this one, but give it a shot, it’s worth it! It’s a good introduction to a great musician - enjoy!
———- Bobby Carcassés Performing “Blues Para Beny Moré” With Orlando “Maraca” Valle In Guatemala
Bobby Carcassés Performing In Havana With Pianist Roberto Fonseca
Bobby Carcassés Performing “Blues Para Chano Pozo”
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Do you have a video to contribute to satisfy our weekly Latin Jazz video fix? If so, send it in - it’s time to feed our addiction. I’m looking for live performances, from any context. I’ll most likely be posting one video per week, but if you’ve got another idea, let’s talk. So come on Latin Jazz videographers, musicians, and fans - let’s share some of our memorable videos! Get my contact info HERE.
Latin Jazz This Week will bring you a weekly look into news from the Latin Jazz world. You’ll find new releases, recommended performances, web finds, and more. You can check out some current sounds in the Listening Center tab at the top of the page. Performance dates will be kept in the Live Latin Jazz tab at the top of the page.
NEWS
If you’re in the Bay Area this week, make sure that you check out New York trumpet player Ray Vega, who will be giving a clinic as part of his time with the Stanford Afro-Latin Jazz Ensemble. As we discussed in yesterday’s feature on the group, pianist Murray Low has brought Vega into work with the group and share his expertise with the community. The clinic will occur on this Wednesday afternoon, March 3rd, at 12:00 p.m. and cover the “New York Roots Of Latin Jazz.” Vega will be giving a concert with the group and Bay Area Latin Jazz musicians John Calloway and Jesus Diaz. Get all the details HERE.
Some people who will not be in the Bay Area this week will include a few of the region’s most prominent Latin Jazz musicians - Wayne Wallace, John Santos, David Belove, and Michael Spiro. These musicians will be in Colorado, holding down the fort at the Colorado Cuban Music Experience at the University of Colorado. This week long event will feature a number of great clinics from each of these musicians, both individually and in groups, covering just about every topic imaginable. It’s an incredible learning experience - if you’re in Colorado, you don’t want to miss this! The musicians will also be giving concerts throughout the week. Get all the details HERE.
Don’t forget - there’s a special deal going on for LJC readers in New York that might want to check out Pablo Aslan’s concert at the Rose Theater on March 26 & March 27. Just purchase your tickets online HERE and enter the promo code “Tango”. You’ll be entitled to a discount that goes up to 25% of the ticket price. Fans of tango-jazz will not want to miss this!
If you’re in CENTRAL AMERICA this week . . . EDDIE PALMIERI WHEN: Friday 3/5/10 WHERE:Jose Cuervo Salon
Lago Andromaco #17 esq. Moliere
Col. Ampliación Granada, México TIME: 9:00 p.m. TICKETS: $600 - $1,000
If you’re in SOUTH AMERICA this week . . . JOVINO SANTOS NETO WHEN: Thursday 3/4/10 WHERE:SESC Pompéia
R. Clélia 93
São Paulo, São Paulo - Brazil TIME: 9:00 p.m. TICKETS: R$4 - R$16
WHEN: Friday 3/5/10 WHERE:SESC Bauru
Avenida Aureliano Cardia, 6-71
Bauru, São Paulo - Brazil TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: FREE
If you’re in EUROPE this week . . . EDWARD PEREZ WHEN: Friday 3/5/10 - Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:Cafe Mercedes
Sueca 27. Russafa. 46006
Valencia, Spain TIME: 11:00 p.m. TICKETS: 8 euros
OMAR SOSA WHEN: Friday 3/5/10 WHERE: Teatro Garibaldi
S. Maria Capua Vetere (CE), Italy TIME: 8:00 p.m.
WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE: Teatro Comunale Giancarlo Siani
Marano di Napoli, Italy TIME: 8:00 p.m.
If you’re in ASIA this week . . . ARTURO O’FARRILL
Jakarta International Java Jazz Festival WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:Semeru 1/2 Acoustic Hall
Jalan Kawasan PRJ Kemayoran
Kemayoran, Jakarta TIME: 11:15 p.m. TICKETS: Rp 380,000
Jakarta International Java Jazz Festival WHEN: Sunday 3/7/10 WHERE:B2 World Music Hall
Jalan Kawasan PRJ Kemayoran
Kemayoran, Jakarta TIME: 11:30 p.m. TICKETS: Rp 300,000
BRIAN LYNCH LATIN JAZZ QUARTET
Jakarta International Java Jazz Festival WHEN: Sunday 3/7/10 WHERE:C2 Appreciative Music Hall
Jalan Kawasan PRJ Kemayoran
Kemayoran, Jakarta TIME: 10:45 p.m. TICKETS: Rp 300,000
HENDRIK MUERKENS
Jakarta International Java Jazz Festival WHEN: Friday 3/5/10 WHERE:Semeru 1/2 Acoustic Hall
Jalan Kawasan PRJ Kemayoran
Kemayoran, Jakarta TIME: 7:45 p.m. TICKETS: Rp 350,000
Jakarta International Java Jazz Festival WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:Lawu 1 Acoustic Hall
Jalan Kawasan PRJ Kemayoran
Kemayoran, Jakarta TIME: 11:15 p.m. TICKETS: Rp 380,000
If you’re on the EAST COAST this week . . . AFRO-DOMINICAN JAZZ PROJECT WHEN: Thursday 3/4/10 WHERE:Esperanza Academy
301 W. Hunting Park Avenue
Philadelphia, PA TIME: 6:00 p.m.
WHEN: Friday 3/5/10 WHERE:Bracetti Academy
2501 Kensington Avenue
Philadelphia, PA TIME: 6:00 p.m.
WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:El Taller Latinoamericano
2710 Broadway
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $10
ANNETTE AGUILAR & STRINGBEANS WHEN: Friday 3/5/10 WHERE:Garden Cafe
4961 Broadway
New York, NY TIME: 7:30 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
BOBBY SANABRIA
Big Band WHEN: Wednesday 3/3/10 WHERE:Fonda Boricua Lounge
172 East 106th Street
New York, NY TIME: 7:30 p.m. & 9:30 p.m. TICKETS: $10
CHEMBO CORNIEL WHEN: Thursday 3/4/10 WHERE:Nuyorican Poet’s Cafe
236 East 3rd Street
New York, NY TIME: 9:00 p.m. TICKETS: $7
CHICO O’FARRILL’S AFRO-CUBAN JAZZ ORCHESTRA WHEN: Sunday 3/7/10 WHERE:Birdland
315 W. 44th Street
Manhattan, NY TIME: 9:00 p.m. & 11:00 p.m. TICKETS: $30
CHRIS WASHBURNE & S.Y.O.T.O.S. WHEN: Sunday 3/7/10 WHERE:Smoke
2751 Broadway
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m., 10:00 p.m. & 11:30 p.m. TICKETS: $20 minimum
EMILIO SOLLA WHEN: Monday 3/1/10 WHERE:Il Punto Ristorante
507 Ninth Avenue
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $35 w/food
ERIC KURIMSKI WHEN: Thursday 3/4/10 WHERE:Terraza Cafe
40-19 Gleane St
Elmhurst, NY TIME: 10:00 p.m. TICKETS: FREE
GABRIEL ALEGRIA WHEN: Friday 3/5/10 - Sunday 3/7/10 WHERE:Tutuma Social Club
164 East 56th Street
New York, NY TIME: Friday & Saturday: 8:00 p.m. & 10:30 p.m.; Sunday: 7:00 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
JOHN BENITEZ WHEN: Tuesday 3/2/10 WHERE:Tutuma Social Club
164 East 56th Street
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. & 10:30 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
JORGE PEREZ-ALBEA WHEN: Friday 2/26/10 WHERE:The Lily Pad
1353 Cambridge Street
Cambridge, MA TIME: 7:30 p.m.
LANNIE BATTISTINI WHEN: Sunday 3/7/10 WHERE:Gwazi Plaza Stage - Busch Gardens
10165 N McKinley Drive
Tampa, FL TIME: 12:00 p.m. & 1:45 p.m. TICKETS: Park Admission: $74.95
MARK HOLEN’S ZAMBOMBA WHEN: Wednesday 3/3/10 WHERE:Via Della Pace
48 East 7th Street
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
NEGRONI’S TRIO
Carnaval On The Mile WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:Douglas Road Stage
Douglas Road & Miracle Mile
Coral Gables, FL TIME: 5:15 p.m. TICKETS: FREE
PEDRO GIRAUDO JAZZ ORCHESTRA WHEN: Tuesday 3/2/10 - Wednesday 3/3/10 WHERE:Jazz Standard
116 East 27th Street
New York, NY TIME: 7:30 p.m. & 9:30 p.m. TICKETS: $20
REBECA MAULEON
Carnaval On The Mile WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:Douglas Road Stage
Douglas Road & Miracle Mile
Coral Gables, FL TIME: 7:45 p.m. TICKETS: FREE
Carnaval On The Mile WHEN: Sunday 3/7/10 WHERE:Ponce North Stage
Ponce de Leon Boulevard & Miracle Mile
Coral Gables, FL TIME: 7:30 p.m. TICKETS: FREE
SOFIA REI KOUTSOVITIS WHEN: Wednesday 3/3/10 WHERE:Tutuma Social Club
164 East 56th Street
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. & 10:30 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
SOFIA TOSELLO WHEN: Thursday 3/4/10 WHERE:Tutuma Social Club
164 East 56th Street
New York, NY TIME: 8:00 p.m. & 10:30 p.m. TICKETS: NO COVER
If you’re in the MID-EAST this week . . . DARWIN NOGUERA EVOLUTION QUARTET WHEN: Tuesday 3/2/10 WHERE:Andy’s Jazz Club
11 E. Hubbard Street
Chicago, IL TIME: 9:00 p.m. TICKETS: $10
LOS GATOS WHEN: Wednesday 3/3/10 WHERE:Live At PJ’s
102 S 1st St
Ann Arbor, MI TIME: 8:00 p.m. & 9:15 p.m. TICKETS: $7
PAQUITO D’RIVERA
Guest Artist With Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra - Pan-American Life Fiesta Sinfonica WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:Mahalia Jackson Theater
801 N. Rampart Street
New Orleans, LA TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $15 - $65
TUMBAO BRAVO WHEN: Sunday 3/7/10 WHERE:Sangria’s
401 South Lafayette Avenue
Royal Oak, MI TIME: 9:30 p.m. TICKETS: $5
If you’re in the MID-WEST this week . . . ALFREDO RODRIGUEZ
Piano Latino With Eddie Palmieri & Michel Camilo WHEN: Monday 3/1/10 WHERE:Winspear Opera House
2106 Boll Street
Dallas, TX TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $25 - $125
EDDIE PALMIERI
Piano Latino With Michel Camilo & Alfredo Rodriguez WHEN: Monday 3/1/10 WHERE:Winspear Opera House
2106 Boll Street
Dallas, TX TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $25 - $125
MICHEL CAMILO
Piano Latino With Eddie Palmieri & Alfredo Rodriguez WHEN: Monday 3/1/10 WHERE:Winspear Opera House
2106 Boll Street
Dallas, TX TIME: 8:00 p.m. TICKETS: $25 - $125
If you’re on the WEST COAST this week . . . ESTRADA BROTHERS WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:Steamer’s
138 W. Commonwealth
Fullerton, CA TIME: 8:30 p.m. TICKETS: $8
MARK LEVINE & THE LATIN TINGE WHEN: Thursday 3/4/10 WHERE:Kuumbwa Jazz Center
320 Cedar St #2
Santa Cruz, CA TIME: 7:00 p.m. TICKETS: $12 in advance; $15 at the door
Masters Of Latin Jazz Concert Featuring Ray Vega, Jesus Diaz, & John Calloway WHEN: Saturday 3/6/10 WHERE:Dinkelspiel Auditorium - Stanford University
471 Lagunita Drive
Stanford, CA TIME: 7:30 p.m. TICKETS: $10
VW BROTHERS
CD Release Celebration For Muziek WHEN: Tuesday 3/2/10 WHERE:Yoshi’s - Oakland
510 Embarcadero West
Jack London Square
Oakland, CA TIME: 8:00 p.m. & 10:00 p.m. TICKETS: 8:00 p.m. - $16; 10:00 p.m. - $10
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Once a musician hits an artistic high, they need to find some way to maintain the inspiration behind their creative vision. For some artists, this involves an introspective exploration of their personal identity that touches upon elements of cultural heritage and social background. The results may range from rigidly defined genre pieces to outlandishly obscure compositions, depending upon the musician’s sense of expression. The musician might find a new collaborator, and over the course of time, they could encounter a series of motivational artistic partners. Each new perspective forces the musician to examine their own approaches and explore new avenues of expression. A series of diverse projects might provide the necessary stimulation to trigger continued growth over the course of time. A steady series of evolving challenges demands further development and sends a musician into the practice shed regardless of their experience. Whatever path the musician follows, they need a invigorating push that will send them charging forward with a continued sense of creative vitality.
MW: I had recorded Algo Más
So I called up Omar’s manager Scott Price, who I knew from when we did the album Cuban Roots Revisited, and I said, “Can Omar do a date with me right after The Black Atlantic in Berlin, playing mallets?” He said, “Well, he doesn’t have any instruments.” I said, “Don’t worry, I’ll rent all the instruments.” He said, “Well, I’m sure Omar would love it, let me call him.” Omar jumped at the chance. So I had balafon; Omar with a marimba on one side of him, vibes on the other side of him, and those tuned boxes on a table. Then Jean Paul brought in two African drummers. Marque Gilmore, a trap drummer who had played a lot with Jean Paul, heard about this date and he said to Jean Paul, “I’ve got to be on this date.” Jean Paul had this really great Polish bass player, Stanislou Michalak. We went into the studio for two days and not only did we not have music, but we had no concept. No one knew what they were going to do - literally! 
We were all staying at a hotel in Berlin, so we get into the bus. I’m in the bus with the two drummers and Omar. We’re driving and the start to sing Toque Eleggua, and they’re singing it exactly the same. These two African guys and a Cuban guy, and they’re singing the same melodies. That’s how much that religion has locked in. So we go into the studio and we start to play. The first thing we record is actually not the first track on the album, the first song the we recorded was the second long track, which is Toque Eleggua. I’m in a booth and I’ve got a C flute, an alto flute, and a bass flute on a piano rack. Just laid across the rack. I’m just picking up one flute after another, trying to play as musically as I can. The texture is so thick that Jean Paul ends up practically not playing. Every single note on that album is just what went down in the studio. Now, you know, there was a lot of editing. The first tune lasted for almost an hour. We would play and then I’d stop playing. Then someone else would start and then I’d play again. Then someone else would stop and then someone else would keep on playing. The tune lasted for an hour! I cut three tracks out of that first recording. It’s edited in the sense that we had to pick through what we recorded to find the boundaries. Otherwise, it was just, again, that magic of putting great musicians in a studio together, in a very high-risk environment. 
MW: Well, here’s the story. You know who Marty Cohen is, right? Marty and I go back to 1961. I met Marty when he made his first cowbell for Pacheco. Pacheco met Barry Rogers in high school; they were both in an automotive trades high school. In the sixties, you couldn’t get cowbells for any amount of money. Guys would work in the Catskills just so they could go into the antique shops and try to find cowbells. Pacheco had made himself a cowbell when he was in metal shop - the thing that they call the Pacheco bell, the big long flat cowbell. You couldn’t put that on a cow because it was too narrow, the clacker wouldn’t work! Pacheco was basically a timbale player as well as a flute player; he used to play timbales when he had a little conjunto. So he makes himself a cowbell and all of the drummers want that cowbell. But he graduated from high school and he no longer has the big metal machine and the metal. He runs into Marty Cohen, who was working as an engineer, and he has a machine shop in his garage. So Pachecho says to Marty, “Here’s the design, can you make me cowbells?” Marty says, “Sure, no problem.” So Pacheco and Marty start selling cowbells. So Marty starts going out to the clubs and I meet Marty Cohen, and we would hang out. 
After I started to record again, he has this big party for his 65th birthday. He invites me to the party, and I had just won best flutist on Latin Jazz Corner and Pedrito had won for best percussionist, both for Con Alma. Pedrito sees me and he comes over and gives me a hug - “Thanks for letting me record that album, when are we going to do another project?” Then I run into Pedrito again, a very sad thing - the engineer who had recorded Algo Más
MW: I had the tiger by the tail. I had to play in a way that I could somehow project musically. I’m not talking acoustically; I don’t mix the flute high; I always mix the flute into the track. So it’s not a matter of being louder than everybody, it was a matter of figuring out how to stand out above the density of the texture. What it did was really plug into that whole free concept of playing that’s at the root of my playing. This is going to sound crazy, but there’s no rhythm section in the world that can throw me - when I started to play with Eddie Palmieri, I learned the trick of being a white guy and playing with Cuban drums. You never try to figure out intellectually where the beat is, instead, what you do is relax, and really slowly start to dance. If you just let yourself dance, you’ll always find the time, because it’s dance music. When we played “Footprints” in 7/4 . . . I can’t play 7/4! I never counted to 7 until after I made the recording! Then I listened to it and I said, “Where the hell is the seven?” Instead, I just let my body respond to the rhythm. That rhythm section is so burning that there was no way that I couldn’t play in time as long as I had the confidence to let myself play and not think intellectually. 
I actually found Timbasa easier to play than the type of tight bebop playing that I was doing on Con Alma. Because on Timbasa, no matter what I played harmonically, Axel would hear it. Anywhere I moved the extension, Axel would hear it. There’s this one spot on “A Ernesto” where I play in another place on the beat - I don’t know why I played it, it was probably because I’ve been playing those change for fifty years. I played the Charlie Parker hot lick, which is the piccolo part from Tiger Rag; Charlie Parker played that at least once a night every night of his life. So I play that and then I go right into a comparsa lick. Then Axel hears it and answers me! When I hear him answer me, I catch the last two notes of his lick - you can’t orchestrate that stuff. That’s what I try to get. This is from listening to those drums - it’s conversation. It’s always about conversation. What I want on all of my albums - and this you hear a lot of Algo Más
So I’m doing a charanga album and then I’m going to have a tango album coming out. The charanga album so far is just danzones - you know, danzon-cha and a bolero - so we needed some contrasting things. He said, “Do you know La Cumbanchera?” I said, “Right! That’s it.” So we’re going to is finish the album with burning up-tempos. We’re scheduled to finish it in May. He’s on the road in Europe, so he can’t have the charts for me right now. So this May, we’ll be finishing up the album with up-tempos - you know, guarachas, mozambiques or whatever he comes up with. It’s a charanga album, but it’s not fiddles, it’s a string quartet. I didn’t want just strings, so it’s 2 violins, viola, and cello. The arrangements are really, really gorgeous. Aruan is an amazing musician, a great piano player. So far, Mauricio Herrera, the drummer on Con Alma and Timbasa, played timbales, and then he overdubbed congas. For the up tempos, we’ll probably have two drummers in the studio so that we can swing. 
Stumble it!
Once an artist reaches a major turning point in their career, they choose to move forward or look backwards. The musicians that live in the past find themselves following similar patterns throughout their artistic lives. While they may make slight changes upon their concept, their musical output consists of the same foundation over time. They may hold different reasons for this stagnant approach, ranging from the popular commercial appeal of a certain sound to a unwavering dedication to their comfort zone. Artists that move forward look ahead with an unforgiving focus and a burning desire to discover exciting new musical territories. They consistently engage new projects that push the limits of their musical concepts and force them to rethink their ideas about improvisation. While they may revisit ideas from their earlier career, they always look at the concept from a different angle, pulling new ideas from the initial thought. Once an artist steps away from the past and moves in a new direction, they inherit a musical fire that sends them into overtime exploring the possibilities in front of them. Whether an artist stays locked in the past or looks boldly into the future, they build a path into their later career - only one approach guarantees an interesting output in later life though. 
Then I started to record a whole bunch of different albums - a whole bunch of jazz albums, a Jewish jazz album, 
, a couple of straight ahead albums, and I just wasn’t getting anywhere. The Brazilian stuff was not getting me anywhere. So I decided that the only thing that I have to do is make 
. I knew that Santi understood drums because he played a little conga and stuff like that. We went in there, again, with no music. 
So I’m sitting in my house and I’m saying, “Man, I’ve got to make a record for this guy that will sell or else he’s not going to let me record any more.” Mark Levine had just gotten a Grammy nomination, and I said, “That’s the ticket!” So I called up Mark Levine, and said, “Hey man, do you want to do a record for me?” I always give co-producer to my main guy, and I said, “You do the co-producer.” Mark is a serious, serious guy, you know, he goes through 50 CDs to pick tunes, and all this stuff. Then I used Santi, because Santi’s a great jazz bass player. Since Mark is such a mainstream Latin Jazz player, I wanted to get him in the same room with these new Cuban drummers. So I called up Pedrito and said, “Do you have a drummer for me?” He said, “Sure.” I said, “O.K., we’ve got a record date.” 
So the next morning, we get into the studio at 12 noon, and the record date goes off like clockwork. At one point, Mark comes over to me and he says, “Man, that’s the greatest bass player I have ever played with in my life.” Santi at another point comes over to me and say, “Hey man, thanks for calling me for this date man. Those drummers are amazing!” So we record about half the album, and we’ve been in studio six or seven hours. I’m isolated, I’m in a booth, and Pedrito comes up to me in the booth and he’s really aggitated. I say, “What’s wrong?” He said, “I’m never going to be able to get this energy overdubbing. You’ve got to let me finish the album.” We’ve been recording for six hours, right? “You’ve got to let me finish the album.” So I call the guys together, we go into the main room, and I said, “Well, Pedrito wants to finish the album tonight.” Santi says, “Oh great, that way I can drive back and not cancel a bass lesson” - because he’s teaching bass over at the college. And Mark says, “Oh great, then I can get a day in New York before I have to fly back!” So we ended up recording the album in twelve hours. We basically had head arrangements. Mark had some things written out, we multi-tracked the alto flutes on one of the tunes, but it was basically head arrangements. 
I heard about Romero Lubambo and I got his phone number from somebody. I sent Romero the stuff that I had done with Jean Paul and I said, “I want to do the same thing with Brazilian stuff.” He was interested in the concept, which was extended form improvisation. I said to him, “What I want you to do is find me a very, very fundamental tune and then a really obscure bossa nova.” So he came over to my house and he brings me this tune - he didn’t even know the name of it. He said he thinks the name is Baião Grafino, this old, old folkloric baião. It’s actually a blues; it’s a three chord blues. He shows it to me and I said “Great.” He shows me the bossa nova and I said, “Great.” We were going to do the session and he said he was going to bring Cyro Baptiste. 
There’s a long list of influential musicians in the Latin Jazz world, but there’s a short list of musicians that single-handedly altered the course of the music. Important composers have changed formal structures in Latin Jazz, injecting traditional rhythms with jazz harmonies and different beliefs about improvisation. These musicians are known for their individual contributions to the music, but in reality, their discoveries came from years of experimentation, trial, and error. Once they heard musicians play their music, they would make changes, slightly tweaking their concept until they pushed things in a new direction. Significant bandleaders have lead the way into genre altering performance approaches, creating new artistic settings and pursuing the music through different contexts. These band leaders brought new ideas out of their sidemen and formed new collectives that showed the world a completely different view of Latin Jazz. While these individuals may have delivered the concept, they required the collaborative effort of their band mates to bring it to life - their ideas only came to fruition through the collective workshop efforts of their band. When we think of most major figures in the Latin Jazz world, we remember the work that they did in collaboration with their peers - in all cases, this work represents an admirable task. Still, the few individuals that took the Latin Jazz world and turned it upon its ear represent major milestones in the history’s music.
As the road into the future becomes clear for a young musician, they become ready to make a serious artistic statement. Hard working musicians naturally develop their own ideas and become driven to create a personal statement; leading their own projects allows them to do this. Their artistic choices generally reflect the experiences of their early musical career - in many cases an artist may build upon their previous artistic direction, expanding upon current ideas. At other times, musicians will explore an absolutely new direction, giving them the opportunity to explore something that peaks their interest but was unavailable in earlier gigs. Most importantly, these original statements give the musician a chance to rise from the obscure fog of sideman work and present their identity in a very public space. This presents a real risk for the musician - the public will either accept or reject their project. Acceptance generally feels great, but rejection can shatter the new clarity for the musician. Regardless of the nature of the reaction, it fundamentally changes the musician’s future as they reconsider their prospects. Once again, the musician wades into a murky and unclear future, filled with uncertainty over their upcoming direction.
MARK WEINSTEIN: I never thought of myself as a Latin trombone player, I always thought of myself as a jazz trombone player. When I was playing jazz, I was part of the New York avant-garde movement. I remember there were these jam sessions with Pharoah Sanders and all of these great guys. I played with some of the weirdest avant-garde guys; a lot of really, really avant-garde bands. I played with trumpet player Bill Dixon - I’ll never forget one gig, it was a mass brass gig, and there were about five brass players, all in different parts of a church. All we had were goose egg notes, and the goose egg note wasn’t what you played. It was what anchored your playing and then you played completely free! So there were these five guys playing completely free who couldn’t see each other all at the same time, echoing in a church! So this was the kind of music that I was involved with. I was stretching myself harmonically, although it’s hard to do that on trombone because you can’t play fast enough to play the substitutions. So I was actually playing a lot of polytonal music. I was experimenting just playing what people hear as normal now. We were actually playing half-step substitutions and even in other keys. 
That was the reason that I quit Herbie Mann’s band - it’s actually a funny story. We were recording the album that came out as 
What had happened was I had so many Latin dance club gigs that I frequently had doubles. So I started giving my subs to jazz trombone players, mainly Julian Priester and Garnett Brown. In those days, you had to pay back, and the way they paid me back was to give me these big band gigs. After the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis band started Monday nights at The Village Vanguard, a couple of the clubs - especially a club called The Half-Note - had started to put in big bands, trying to capture The Village Vanguard scene. So Joe Henderson had a big band, Clark Terry had a big band, Duke Pearson had a big band, and Kenny Durham had a big band. The trombone sections for all these big bands were me, Garnett Brown, and Julian Priester, plus a bass trombone player. So I was really getting a reputation. I started to work some subs with the Thad Jones band, I worked with Maynard (Ferguson) for a minute, and then I did some subs with Lionel Hampton. I was moving out into jazz and I was always a very loud trombone player, because I still had the concept from the Latin bands of the trombone being a very forceful instrument. And I was always a very avant-garde player and I was always searching for ways to extend music. And then 
I got Julito Collazo to basically give me permission, because he was the guy that almost everybody considered to be the most knowledgeable guy in terms of religious music. A lot of the initial drummers thought that I was being sacrilegious, playing the Toques De Santos. In fact, the first rehearsal that I had for 
The amazing thing about that album was we did it with one rehearsal, just one rehearsal. I had these long piano parts written out, these long, fold-out piano parts, and Chick Corea is sitting there - I’ll never forget this as long as I live - Chick Corea is sitting there in this little rehearsal studio with his left hand in his pocket - literally! Just playing vaguely the charts that I wrote with his right hand, but listening to those drummers. Trying to figure out what was going on. He had never heard anything like this in his life. I didn’t know who to use on bass. I could have used Bobby Rodriguez, but I felt that Bobby would be too dominant. Bobby was like a Barry Rodgers type guy, a very dominant personality. I was good friends with Bobby Valentin; I had played trombone on his original album. I knew Bobby had switched to bass. Bobby was, even when he was a kid, what he turned out to be - this amazing musician with great ears and a wonderful concept. So I asked Bobby if he would play bass. When Bobby heard the drummers, he didn’t know what to do either. No one had ever played bass with drummers like that! 
So we had the one rehearsal and then we went into the studio. We recorded the entire album - this is no lie - we recorded the entire album in three hours. Every single tune is a first take. The sound of the album is horrible; the actual recorded sound is horrible. When we played down the first tune for the mic check, the sax player Arnie Lawrence, went into the booth and said, “Man, the horns sound horrible.” And Al Santiago said the famous line, “We’ll fix it in the mix. Get back in there, we’ve got to do that date.” The reason that we had to do the date so fast was that Al knew if the guy from Musicor showed up during the recording and heard what we were playing, he would pull the plug. And when we were playing the last tune, which was the comparsa, I saw him. He came into the studio, and he was basically saying, “Shut this damn thing down!” By the way, it was the 1960s so it local 802; it was all union, and we would have had to pay for overtime. So he wouldn’t let us go into overtime and so Al knew that that was going to go down - he just pushed us. Every tune that we recorded, he would just say, “Great! Next tune.” Not only that, but we were in such a small studio that they couldn’t even mix stereo because there was no separation whatso ever. Everything was bleeding into everything else, and I was a loud player. I was blasting, so he put a primitive limiter on my track, and that’s one of the reasons why my trombone sounds even funkier than usual. 
MW: I had a chance to put a horn section together for Janis Joplin. I had done some gigs with a great blues guitar player, Mike Bloomfield - the blues guitar player on super session. He had a band called the Electric Flag. So I did some gigs with them in the city and I was supposed to join the Electric Flag - but the band broke up. So Albert Grossman, who was the manager of Dylan and all those guys, called me and asked me to put a horn section together for Janis Joplin. But that would have meant moving to San Francisco by myself and living in the band house. My daughter was just born, and I knew that that would break up my rather shaky marriage. So I turned down the gig. When I turned down the gig, I sort of looked myself in the eye and said, “You just turned down the best thing that you’ll probably every get as a musician. So why do you think you’re a musician?” And I said, “I guess I’m not.” I didn’t stop playing - I had to support my family. But in my head I stopped being a musician. That’s when I went to graduate school to get PhD in Philosophy. 
Then I had this funny experience; after I made The Orisha Suites. I played it for Randy Brecker, who was running a club named Seventh Avenue South, and he gave me a gig. I put a band together with a mallet player and three drummers that included Tommy Lopez again and Eddie “Gua Gua” (Rivera) playing bass. This guy comes up to me during the gig, and says, “Wow, you sound great, would you be a featured soloist in my jam session?” This guy was Mike Morgenstern, who was running a jam session with something called New York Jazz Society. I said, “Sure.” So I go down, he gives me this big build-up, and I have to play the first solo. It was a jam session so there was a line of saxophone players. They started to play a tune that I didn’t know; but I had a lot of confidence that I could play anything from playing with guitar players. Of course, I didn’t realize that it doesn’t translate very well into hard, complicated changes of jazz tunes. During the first chorus I was fumbling trying to find the right changes and the first sax player in line literally pushes me with his hip away from the microphone! At that point I realized that playing free with guitar players was not going to teach me how to play jazz. That’s when I started going down to Washington Square Park and learning how to play bebop. Then I discovered Jamey Aebersold and I started to play with Jamey Aebersold records. But I was always experimenting harmonically and always trying to play with the freedom that I had either brought to playing by myself or playing with these rock and roll guitar players, you know these acoustic folk-rock guitar players. 
For many young musicians, the future lies ahead like a foggy mist, filled with uncertainty but packed with the inevitable reality that it will arrive. At the early stages of their careers, musicians can only move towards the mist, embracing the unknown in a quest for clarity. Each experience along the way provides a bit more definition to their future, paving the wave towards an musical focus and a burning artistic passion. As the musicians wind through the twists and turns of paying their dues, the highs and lows of early gigs sometimes give an uneven perspective on the future, but each performance leaves a memorable mark upon the artist’s consciousness. Sometimes musicians garner clarity through the associations that they make during the early stages of their career, building relationships that effect both their personal and professional lives. They create these associations with mentor figures that provide leadership and inspiration, but also with their musical peers who work in the trenches alongside them. Regardless of the relationship’s foundation, the time shared with each contact provides important insights that help the musician form their artistic vision. Along the way, the musician develops ideas and focus that open a clear road into the future, leading them towards a defined future. The path may change direction over time, and their musical focus may evolve over time - one thing becomes certain though, the foggy mist rises and the musician sees future possibilities. At that point, its up to the musician to take action, move ahead and develop the future possibilities. 
and 
MARK WEINSTEIN: My brother, who is 16 years older than me, was a sailor during World War II, and I worshiped him. He was a trombone player . . . my family is full of trombone players. My nephew Dan Weinstein is a working trombone player out in Los Angeles. He actually played trombone in part because of me - his father wanted him to play violin, but he sort of looked up to me. Anyway, my brother was a trombone player and we had a piano in the house since my brother was a musician. So that was basically what started it. My sister played flute and bassoon. My father, although he was a laborer, played violin when he was a boy; later in his life, he always used to play harmonica. My mother’s brother was a klezmer trumpet player in Poland and my mother claimed that her grandfather played bass in the orchestra of the Czar . . . that may be a family legend or it may be true! So I have musicians on both sides of the family.
The summer that I graduated, I got a gig in the Catskill Mountains. In those days, trombone players had to double on bass. So I bought a bass - that was the only way that I could get the gig - and I learned how to play it. Then I started working with Latin bands - I worked with a band led by Randy Carlos and another band led by a guy who called himself Arvito; he was actually Harvey Averne, the producer of some great Latin records - he produced Eddie Palmieri’s 
. Larry Harlow was the piano player in those bands. Then Larry started to work with a trio and I was playing bass in the trio. There’s a funny story about that - I used to practice trombone out in the back of the club that faced out onto a big swamp - it was in the back part of Brooklyn that wasn’t developed at all. One day I’m practicing and this guy comes over to me, this real slim guy, and he asks me if I’m the trombone player in the show band. I said, “No, I’m the bass player in the Latin trio.” He said, “Too bad.” I said, “Why?” He said, “Because I’m the star of the show and one of my main numbers needs a trombone player.” It turns out that this show was a female impersonator show, and this guy did a take on Pearl Bailey. He did a song called “I’m Tired,” which is actually the song in Blazing Saddles that the lady sings. I got the gig. In the middle of the song, the trombone player had to play an attitude filled loud note and then he called me out onto the stage holding my music to practice the part. Then he would come out in front and run from me, and then I would chase him around, hitting him in the ass with the slide. The amazing thing is that because of that, at the age of 18 or 19, I ended up playing a class A show gig on trombone, making great money. So I dropped bass and started to work on trombone. 
I was with his first La Perfecta band. He had recorded the album that has that famous picture with the car and me holding the trombone. I wasn’t on that album - João Donato, the Brazilian pianist who is also a trombone player was the other trombone player. He living in New York in those days, but he had gone back to Brazil. When Eddie took the picture for the album, he wanted the picture to show his working band. That’s the graphical record of me playing with the band. 
MW: This is complicated - I always had this love/hate relationship with Barry. He was my best friend . . . literally. He was my best friend, our wives were best friends; we were very, very close. But Barry or Eddie would never let me take solos. Barry was a musical perfectionist. The band had to be run exactly the way he wanted it run. So it was very frustrating to me because I always wanted to be a soloist. I would stand there just playing the vamp over and over and over and over again while Barry would be playing these magnificent improvisations which was really what made La Perfecta. It’s something that you don’t hear on the recordings. What would happen was during the montuno, Barry would sing coro. When Ismael Quintano was doing his pregon, Barry would call me over and sing a riff in my ear very softly, moving his arm to show me how to play it on the slide, where the smears were, and how to get it just the way he wanted it. I would have two shots, and after two shots, I had to have it down. And that was one of the reasons why I hung onto the gig - because I could do that with Barry. I would play the riff while the singers were still singing. Then Barry would start to double the riff and then he would play the riff in harmony. Then he would start to improvise almost dixieland style over what I was playing. This would go on sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes. People would go crazy because Barry would be playing all this great stuff. But all that I was doing was playing this original vamp. Barry made it very, very clear that I was not allowed to move off the vamp. 
The result was that Barry himself was very unhappy about music most of his life. He never met his own standard. An indicator of that, when he recorded the album with The Brecker Brothers, also a very, very rare album from the sixties, and album called Dreams, where he did a lot of the horn arranging, he never takes a solo. He never takes a solo on the entire album. I’m convinced that the reason he wouldn’t take a solo is that he was in a band with Michael and Randy Brecker, and his soloing wasn’t up to it. Barry, for a guy who’s probably one of the major voices in the 1960s, he has no solos recorded to speak of. He has eight bar solos with Eddie here and there, and he has some solos on the Alegre All-Stars album. He never recorded an album of his own. He could have gotten a record album just by calling any producer in the world and asking them if they would produce him. He had the absolute respect of every single musician that played with him. There was nobody who didn’t respect Barry, except maybe Barry himself, who always felt that his playing was inadequate. 
, an impressive release that included some of Cuba’s best jazz musicians including Chucho Valdes, Jose “Changuito” Quintana, Cesar Lopez, and more. Carcassés continued to stay busy recording and performing, appearing on Canadian saxophonist Jane Bunnett’s 
and 
from The Cuban Masters Ensemble. His most recent release, 
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