Pa' carnaval con La Revé

Revé's tres player and primo cake eater, Jorge.

The thing about going to Havana for a holiday, is that you really feel like you’ve been somewhere. And for some reason, when you look back over the time, days feel like weeks. For a trip to Trinidad with Orquesta Revé, take that and times it by a hundred: we only went for two nights but I feel like I’ve been gone from Centro Habana a month. It seems impossible that it was just four days ago that we were at Cafe Cantante grooving to Combinación de la Habana. It’s something to do with the fact that nights seem to stretch into weeks when it’s carnival and the band doesn’t start till 3am and doesn’t finish till 5.30am; then the band wants to stop off for snacks on the way home at six and sit around eating them in the fluoro-lit fast-food joint rather than get on the bus; and also that when you finally get home, and into bed, the house and reggaeton at the hotel for Cubans next door starts pumping out an hour later at 8am.
We were told to meet in Parque Central on Saturday at 12.30. We arrived punctually: we were the only ones who did. First on the scene was tresero Jorge. Others dribbled in. Two old ladies on the stone park bench told Aisar he was a “bombón”. What excellent taste they had. That'll be me when I'm ancient: sitting on a park bench ogling handsome young men. I might have to move here; seems more acceptable somehow.
At 1.30 we were ready to leave. The bus was old, it had no air-con and Elito would not be taking it with us: he would be driving in his Merc and would arrive hours beforehand. We had to go by Cienfuegos to pick up timbalero Andy, trombonista Yamel and pianist Pachi. There were also the obligatory stops at roadside fruit stalls: the pineapple stall in particular was a big hit and we stayed there for almost 30 minutes. At a roadhouse, various bandmembers had their first drink of the day.
We passed a prison in Cienfuegos and lots of people with nothing to do on their Saturday afternoon but stand in the doorways of their tiny houses in their small towns and look boredly at the passing traffic. It reminded me of weekends in Brisbane when I was growing up.
We stopped abruptly at a level crossing when we heard a train tooting as it approached, the bus lurched forward a little, as if the driver was thinking of speeding quickly across, and there were cries of “no hay tiempo!” from the musos, just as the train drew up to the road, which, it turned out, doubled as a station.
The road was long and bumpy. It rained a little but when we finally arrived in Trinidad, it was sunny. The band was staying in a resort for Cubans just outside of town. The digs were what could be described kindly as basic. But they were about 30 metres from the sea, which was kinda nice. When we got home at night (or more accurately, the morning), the house was teaming with wildlife: ants, cockroaches, spiders and crabs.
After we arrived, we showered and went to the dining room for fried chicken and congris, followed by little square cakes with blue and white icing - these would appear at the end of both lunch and dinner.
The bus took us 6km into Trinidad at 12.30am. There was a timba band - probably local - with a female singer with blonde plaits playing on a big concrete stage to about 3000 people. They weren’t bad, but their songs were a little derivative. The people were pretty into it, though. A stroll through the crowd showed the usual goings on: people drinking rum and beer; young boys grinding with their aunts. Underfoot, the ground had been concreted - I can’t imagine how dismal it must be during daylight without its joyous revellers.
The changeover between bands seemed to take forever. Even when Reve were almost set-up, I realised I still hadn’t seen Elito yet, which didn’t bode well. My feet hurt and I was ready to drop. Then at 2.50, the started playing Fresquecito and I immediately perked up. The new line-up features Emilio, ex of Tumbao Havana (he sang Padrino) and Suzel, ex of Sello LA on vocals, and Gretchen, Elito’s daughter on keyboards. Not sure she contributes all that much yet but she looks nice and she can despelote. After Emilio joined the band, the pair became an item. That could cause problems for someone down the line. But I guess everything’s en taller right now.
I had already heard a handful of songs before I got to Cuba and Aisar had played me the rest on the bus: it was good to be acquainted with them, as the set had lots of them in it.
My favourite is the title track - De que estamos hablando. My least favourite is the radio hit, Chichi, practically a novelty track with its coro “Chichi, Chichi, como te gusta la Toyota, y tambien el Mitsubishi”. (If only they lived in a capitalist society they could make some real money off that.) It was played towards the end and the crowd loved it, even though it was nearing 5.30am. There were six year olds asleep in their father’s arms at the foot of the stage, and still the band played. The trombonistas, who I think had spent most of the day drinking, were dancing round like mad and fooling around. They got into trouble from singer Dagoberto during Jonrón though, when they didn’t just miss a cue, they hadn’t even picked up their trombones to play it.
I acquitted myself admirably under the circumstances by dancing until the last half hour or so. By then it was a miracle I was even upright. Afterwards we filed into the bus - many revellers stayed at the ground as the sky lightened - but “home” wasn’t as near as I had hoped. First we had to stop at a Rapido, so the guys could buy drinks and pastries and ugly looking little pizzas, and sit down at the laminex tables and eat them. Zzzzzzzzzzz. Once on the bus again - by now it was 6am – some spontaneous singing broke out, with Dagoberto and Andy trading improvised verses and the rest of the bus responding with a coro of “si si si, si si si si” or “no no no, no no no” according to what was appropriate. It was pretty funny but I was astounded that anyone had an iota of energy left.
Finally we arrived at out house - aka the wildlife sanctuary - got into bed, and went to sleep, only to be woken an hour later by the thump of reggaeton and house. Earplugs FTW.
I woke at noon, completely shattered - or hecho leña as they say here sometimes. We walked up the hill to have lunch - weirdly, they’d saved breakfast for us as well, so on offer was an omelette with slices of some kind of pressed meat and mashed malanga; as well as chicken with a rice with pork through it and plantain chips. And cake.
It was fucking hot. When we got back to the house and turned the fan on, we discovered why the reggaeton had stopped booming out: apagón. Beauty. We went down to the beach and sat under a tree a while. MFF, who’s a bit of a beach bunny; went swimming in the lukewarm water. I paddled, then we went back to the house and I hit the hay for another go at sleeping.
Aisar meanwhile, entertained MFF with some of his new work, including a son project with Sinsonte, Andy, Jorge and trumpeter Mirabal called Barrio Tres.
Once the evening arrived, the whole thing began again; though when we arrived for dinner, we were told it wasn’t ready yet, and when we asked why, it turned out Elito had complained to someone in the government about the food (I thought it had been pretty good), and so they were now preparing more, and presumably “better” food for us all. We didn’t have long to wait - previously we had arrived and food had appeared instantly, as if by magic. This time we had a mountain of it: a giant plate of plantain chips; a plate of boiled potato with onion, chicken that tasted like it had been roasted rather than fried (riquísimo), pressed meat and rice with pork. Dagoberto had been into town during the apagón and picked up some tamales as well. There was also cake, of course, which was rejected by five of those at the table. Tresero Jorge ate them all. Yikes. After dinner I had a nap. I felt like I could never get enough sleep. Then it was back in to Trinidad at 1am. No waiting this time; “Qué bien!” said Aisar when he found out they’d be playing immediately. As everyone disembarked, the trombonists were asked to stay on the bus by Elito and their manager: possibly a ticking off for their behaviour the previous night.

New addition to the Revé line-up, Suzel

The ground seemed as full as the day before, although the crowd seemed slightly more into it, maybe due to the less soporific hour. The set kicked off with Dale al agua al domino. Goody, I thought, I get to see a different set. Most of the new songs were the same: De que estamos hablando, Chichi, Niña relajáte and Suzel’s song Ya sé cantar, a midtempo number that reminds me of Despues de todo, only in that it takes the energy down for a bit. There was one new addition, which was Emilio’s Nueva explosion. The oldies were Mi salsa tiene sandunga - and I suppose one day I’ll get tired of hearing that - and some songs from Fresquecito. For Agua pa Yemaya, Elito got up on the speaker to address the crowd. For the snippet of Se sigue comentando, which always closes the set, he got some ladies up, and there was much controversy afterwards among the musos because one of them was a cross dresser. There was even more commotion when the response from the Australians was, “So?” Or words to that effect. We come from a city that has a gay parade that has 800 participants and sees more than 500,000 spectators line the streets to watch it (it’s also televised).
We left the ground, made a brief stop at the Rapido, and were in bed by 4am. So it was an early one then. Some people got up early to watch some football game. I slept till midday. It was glorious.
I was pretty keen to get back to my casa in Havana, which was positively luxurious compared to the Trinidad digs, but a dude from the Sancti Spiritu goverment wanted to treat the orchestra to a lunch, so it would be some hours before we would see Havana - the Combinación de la Habana matinee at Miramar (they've finally fixed the air-con there so matinees are back on) was receding into the distance.
We stopped at a small building in a rustic street that bordered on deserted. Out the back was an outdoor area to eat with lots of chickens wandering around. Inside the food, though basically more of the same, was pretty good. The red snapper steaks were excellent.
MFF was thrilled to find some cajitas of rum - since the deal with the tetrapak company went belly-up, not only has the fantastic Cuban juice disappeared (I used to live on the jugo de pera) but you can’t buy the little boxes of rum either. What we had here seemed to be old stock, including some that were a mojito mix that I’d never seen. No idea what they’re like but I’ll report back.
At 3.15, the trip back commenced in earnest. There was an early stop for mangoes, and the fruit here that looks and tastes like custard apples, but appears to be something different; the drop off in Cienfuegos of Andy and Pachi, who are recording something there, and the obligatory 30 minute stop at the by-now famous (or rather infamous) piña stall. As we neared Havana, rain fell impeding our process further. As we reached the outskirts, the drop-offs of individual bandmembers began, and I realised Parque Central was further away than I had anticipated. We finally arrived, totally shattered, at 10.30.
It was an amazing adventure, but next time, remind me to hire a car.

Traigo chocolate pa ti

Yeni and Tirso

On Sunday I had had a call from Kevin, a guy I had met in the Cuban consul in Sydney, who had arrived in town after a two week road trip in the states. He and his mate were looking for something to do for the evening and I suggested they join us to see Salsa Mayor at Cafe Cantante, as “su tio” had repeatedly told us during Disco Fiesta that the band would be back there on Mondays now that the air conditioner was functioning again.
It was yet another balmy evening (sweltering will also suffice as an adjective) so we sat on the terrazza and chatted and drank until 12.15, then headed up to Zanja to get a taxi. Late enough, I thought, to not have to suffer through too much reggaeton. The usual entrance at the back of the cafe is blocked off and you now enter through the theatre entrance at the front of the building.
The place was very busy, so su tio had done his job well. The guy on the door told us there were no tables, but we found one as soon as we arrived. Even better: the DJ was playing salsa. Better still: the band came on at 1 instead of 1.45 as they had last year at the same gig.
It was a much better gig than Saturday’s. I don’t know why: they had a big crowd at Galiano - maybe Mondays at the cafe have become special for them now that they’ve been doing them for a year or so. While the set was more or less the same - albeit in a different order, and with the addition of Esto está - it was performed with much more gusto, especially from Yordi, who was really in form. He’s one of my favourites. A commanding presence on stage, he is one of those rarities; someone who manages to be both cool and hot. I saw him with Azúcar Negra last year, but I was always so dazzled by Ailyn and Dayan, that I neglected to pay him much attention. He has much better songs with Salsa Mayor anyway - in fact, he has all the good ones now. Or maybe he makes them good. Whatever. He’s totally worth seeing. I was vastly more entertained than I had been the previous Saturday.
While me and MFF were dancing down the front, the Australian boys were busy being wooed by gorgeous locals and grappling with the question of whether or not they were jineteras. If you’re talking about Cafe Cantante - or any of the big clubs - on a week night, the answer is probably yes.
Tuesday we went back to Galiano for the Van Van matinee. I took a couple of locals along - lord knows, their gigs need the balance. It’s like a 2:1 foreigner/Cuban ratio in there. I took my friend Orquidea and Yulian from Combinación de la Habana, and he was thrilled when we walked in and their song El Pillo was playing to a packed dance floor. Sounded good too. And it wasn’t reggaeton. Woo.
Formell was absent from the Van Van line-up, as was violinist Irving. They had a cellist, which they’d had a couple of weeks back, but not the previous week. It sounded beautiful. Guests included Lisette, a Cuban singer who lives in Miami, Reve’s Aisar, who took over on bass and Tirso, who is back in town, and doing the rounds - he’s with Combinación de la Habana at Palacio de la Rumba on Sunday. When we caught up with Aisar he was clutching a disc of some new recordings, including something he’s done with El Indio. Will try and get the details and report back.
Tirso did some good improv on Si a una mamita - kinda weird seeing him and Mayito together - and played piano on Despues de todo. And I found out why the pianist/musical director of Combinacion de la Habana looks familiar: he played in Tirso’s awesome band which I saw in 2004.
Van Van buck the matinee trend by starting at 7.30 and finishing at 9.30 - I don’t really know what difference a half an hour could make to anyone. The houselights come on as soon as the curtain comes down. They’re playing the Sydney Opera House in August, so afterwards I went looking for the representante to talk about getting an interview or something. We’ll see what happens. I think they’re off to Europe soon.

On Wednesday there was a change of pace: Celine, Maraca’s manager, wanted to get the photos I had taken from the gigs. She said, he is appearing in a tribute from (didn’t get the name) at UNEAC - it’s a charanga tipica - not charanga charanga - why don’t we meet there then you can come to our place and I’ll cook for you and you can bring the photos. Sounded like a pretty good deal.
It sounded like a pretty good deal. First, rain threatened to wash out the entire enterprise: the UNEAC gigs are in the patio of a mansion in Vedado, and before we left, my hallway got flooded by a downpour.
After it subsided, we headed off. The band will be on at 4, Celine had said. But of course the rain had postponed everything and when we got there, they were still setting up. We sat on the verandah on iron rocking chairs and practically dozed off. When the entertainment finally got underway - horror of horrors! - the first part turned out to be part of the Boleros de Oro festival which is running until Saturday. Death by boredom.
Celine hadn’t realised the festival was forming part of the program. She said she told Maraca: “Yemayá is going to be so mad with me.” After so little time, she knows me so well.
After an excruciating hour, during which time I slumped on the table and watched the adolescent cats with enormous anime eyes prowl around the parillada looking for chicken bones, the charanga band came on. They started with a descarga, which, to be honest, wasn’t much of an improvement, though it did feature some nimble flute playing from Maraca, Aragon’s flautist and another guy I couldn’t identify. After that, they started playing some cool cha-cha-chas and son montunos and everyone got up to dance. Just then Celine came to get us: Come on! she said. Let’s go. She added: Just when it’s getting good!
All would be forgiven when Maraca put Los Ases de la Timba and Hablando en serio on the stereo at their house, Celine put duck followed by chocolate mousse on the table, and their fluffy little calico cat purred into my hand.
Thursday I was visited by the migraine monster, so plans to see Leo Vera sing with Charanga Latina were thwarted. On the bright side: a trip to the provinces with a favourite may be in the offing this weekend. If it comes off, I will be one ecstatic timbera.

Welcome to Los Jardines

Aragón at Los Jardines de La Tropical

What I learnt today: two ladies shouldn’t go to Los Jardines de la Tropical unaccompanied unless they want to spend every song - and I mean every song - dancing and/or laughing gaily at the jokes of sundry gentlemen.
Los Jardines are beautiful - they are just that: lush gardens where the original La Tropical was 100 years ago and where Arsenio played in the 40s. But today, the men were wolves and we were the meat on the menu. It’s a lot further out than Salon Rosado it’s at the back of 51, past Cerro and there’s a bit of a walk to the main road to get a taxi back, unless you can commandeer one that is dropping someone off.
On approaching the entrance, all we could hear was reggaeton, but Aragón were playing down the hill and around the corner and the sweet tumbao of the violins greeted as we neared the stage. The stage is in a wee valley shaded by enormous fig trees and walled by vines. It’s really something. The clientele was even more rustic than Salon Rosado - lots of oldies, some inbetweenies and a few young uns - there were some sons with their mums. Aragón were pumping out the charanga. They sounded sweet and tough. I’m crazy for this shit live: it has so much more guts than you think it’s going to. The violins cranking out that groove can rival Bootsy anyday. They have a great young singer too. He looks very familiar: I don’t know if that’s because I’ve seen him before with Aragón or if he used to sing with someone else. I batted away a few thousand requests to dance so I could take some photos; then danced with one guy till I thought I would drop from the heat - the only air-con was an all-too intermittent breeze. Another guy picked me up after I’d rested for about a nanosecond. He was very good but aw it was so sweaty. And I’m happy to watch the band and dance on my own. It’s not like I get to see Aragón everyday - like they do! Unfortunately after about three songs - one with a coro about fathers, naturally, they took a break. The music recorded music was good: Pupy’s Loco como una moto; Salsa Mayor’s Recoge y vete, Alain Daniel’s Se pega ella - unfortunately they all made me jiggle around a bit which was an invitation for about a million guys to ask me to dance. I know, I know - weird to go somewhere like that and not dance in a pareja I suppose. It’s just not my priority any more - hasn’t been for a while. I like dancing sola. And in the heat and with six hours sleep I just wasn’t into it. The more insistent they became the crankier I got. Then of course they start critcising you for having a “mala cara” and crossed arms, and I just want to tell them all to get fucked. I get that they want to dance, but if I don’t want to, I don’t want to; and it’s not like I was the only woman there for chrissakes - there were plenty of women dancing on their own who would happily have danced with them. Or maybe not. Maybe there was a reason these guys were desperate for a partner. I don’t know. I realised if we’d gone with a guy we would have been fine, with the macho thing in play and all. Next time, I’m going with my mate Richard who is a bouncer at Salon Rojo. That should keep 'em in check. It’s weird, Salon Rosado isn’t like that at all. Maybe it was just the day: maybe they were just all extra tanked up on rum for fathers’ day.
A sign at the door had said that Los Van Van would be doing the matinee there on Saturday: I can't even begin to imagine the kind of chaos and horrors that will bring. The place is tiny - they'll squeeze 500 into that tiny valley, tops. Needless to say, I won't be there. It would be a different story if it were Salon Rosado: I'm just gutted that it's closed.
MFF got involved in a conversation with a guy who turned to be from Septeto Nacional, and we finally recognised him as one of the guys who had sung with Van Van the Tuesday before. He invited us to a rehearsal and I wouldn’t mind going, now that I have a belated and new-found appreciation for son.
More than half an hour had passed and Aragón still hadn’t returned. I was thinking longingly of the cold innercity venues of Centro Habana - in particular, Azucar Negra at Palacio de la Rumba. We scrammed, and luckily picked up a taxi at the gate.
La Palacio was way too quiet given that Ailyn and the boys were totally kicking it on stage when we walked in. I didn’t care. They sounded great - they are really a treat this year, and the lights were great and I got great pics and video and danced a bit (on my own) and totally enjoyed what was left of the show. Next week Combinación de la Habana play the matinee there. You know that’s where I’ll be.
Centro Habana: home sweet home.

A guarachar en el campo

Before this trip, I never thought I’d be grooving to moña (more about that in the next post) and dancing to Maraca’s Castígala. But Havana can make you do some crazy things.
Celine, Maraca’s wife and manager, had invited us to go with them to a gig for Carnaval in Bahía Honda, formerly of Pinar del Rio, now in the new province of Artemisa.
We went to their very pretty house in Nautica and met their lovely cat and waited for the bus to arrive.
It wasn’t a long trip. When we turned off the highway, the roadside was punctuated by stalls selling bright yellow-orange mangoes. Finally the temptation proved too much and the bus stopped so its passengers could disembark and buy one stall's entire stock. They were very pleased with their day’s business. When are you coming back? they asked.
In Bahía Honda, we drove past a sign saying beware of horses and carts. The horses were pretty sad; half-starved things with protruding bones. :(
There was a stall selling rolls with roast pork; with what was remaining of the pig stretched out on the counter. People were in the town square, where there were trucks selling rum and beer (BYO 1.5 litre empty soft drink bottle) and rum, a couple of carnival rides and a free disco.
Maraca was going to be playing in a small showground a mile away, with a 5 MN admission, but first there was dinner of chicken, congrís and boniato to be had at a local restaurant. Celine had though it would be a pretty rustic affair as far as the gig went, but when we arrived at the ground, there were not only a good set of lights, but also a video screen.
We had arrived early - unheard of - and had some time to kill before the band went on. So we stood around talking and slapping at the dinosaur-sized mosquitos. A bug flew into my eye. That was fun. At 10, a group of raperos was supposed to start the show, but nobody had arrived. We got back onto the bus and waited. And waited. On Thursday the public had waited for Alain; tonight it was the band waiting for their public to arrive. Everyone got twitchy.
Road manager Juan Carlos said: For once, everything went right: the bus arrived on time, we bought mangoes on the way, we have lights for the stage, a video screen. But we don’t have people.
I listened to the horns tune up with Maraca, and to Lester and Andy (piano y teclados) sing a new song with a pretty melody to him. At 10.30 people started to trickle in. I felt sorry for the raperos, who I thought were playing to an empty field, but when they audience participation kicked in, I realised there were quite a few people there, and by the time Maraca came on, it was pretty full of people ready to party.
Maraca’s band is small for a salsa band - only 12 - but they’ve all got the chops, and they sound great. On bass is a pretty young Camagueyano who knows a lot of the people I do. His cousin is on batería and he works very well with the conguero, a beefy guy who looks like he could move a fridge on his own. The horns are great - it's always a pleasure to hear a baritone sax.
The singers I wrote about last week. Lester and El Nene were in great form, the latter particularly during an outrageous cintura competition, which started raunchily with three girls and turned into something akin to a mass orgy when three guys jumped up to join in. The photos from that are really something.
I was dancing around the stage and taking pics - it actually sounded quite good from there. Now I know why Kevin always love to take video from the behind the percussion - it’s really something to stand behind a baterista and conguero and see - and feel - them working together close up. I should try and scam my way backstage more often.
They finished, I dunno, 2-ish, and even though I could have sworn the trip out didn’t take that long, by the time they dropped everyone off, we didn’t arrive back at our casa it was 6am - and us with a double header at Casa de la Musica at Galiano that day. It's a hard life.
It was a great night though. There is nothing like seeing the bands here in Cuba, and nothing like seeing them with the pueblo. Of course it helps to get there in an air-conditioned bus.

A wash out and a rock out

Wednesday was a wash out - I went to bed with a headache Tuesday night and it was still with me when I woke up - a dull, heavy pressure in my temples that only got worse as they day wore on. Fortunately Wednesday is traditionally a slow day for timba and it was even slower than usual - there were no matinees at either Miramar or Galiano. I cancelled a few things and stayed in a darkened room and watched Fantastic Mr Fox. Oh Wes Anderson, you wonderful crazy loon.
Felt much better on waking on Thursday, which was just as well, as there were a few things on. But first went down to the gloomy shops on Neptuno to buy some bootleg salsa from the guy down there. Two of the salsa compilations have, I’ve discovered, a song on them called "Historia real by Tumbao Habana", it’s wrong on both counts (and both compilations): it’s Calle Real’s El amigo José. Pretty funny. I wonder how Tumbao Habana feel about that. Do people go to the gigs and think, “Why don’t they ever play that song?” Maybe they do! I’ll report back. Even funnier: one of the discs features the timba.com logo. Good to see Americans supporting small business entrepreneurs in Cuba! Jaja.

I boiled up a few things in preparation for throwing together a salade nicoise when we got back from the Azúcar Negra matinee at Galiano. It was a bit of a crazy scene down there. Not jam-packed, but busy, and the people there were hellbent on having a good time. Mostly Cubans, and lots of empty Havana club bottles on tables and a bit of grinding on the steps. They did a few new songs; one sounded particularly promising - a funky thing sung by the three boys with a funny coro about how she (Ailyn?) was all right for an appetizer, but not for the main course. There was no marcha, so I don’t know if it’s a work-in-progress or if that’s it. I’m not that keen on the new song A mi La Habana, which is very popular, but it’s not bad, and it could be worse (it could be the merengue fusion) and there are enough good songs to balance the bad at the moment. They’re a lot of fun. They’re at the Palacio de la Rumba matinee on Sunday, but Aragón are at Los Jardines, so I’m going to try and get into that. If it’s a full house, the Palacio will be second choice.
Alaín Daniel was the second session for the day at his regular gig. MFF risked losing her title by bailing on me. But seeing as I missed him last week, I was pretty determined to go. So I headed off at 12.15. Luckily an old friend was working the door and he helped me pass the hour until Alaín would hit the stage. The parade of people ascending into Daniel’s inferno was a sight to behold: peroxided blondes with glassy lips and dresses consisting of strategically placed strips of fabric, guys with great chunks of gold hanging around their necks. Guillermo Almeida was there as usual: an enormous gold JG (for Juan Guillermo) on chain threatening to strangle him. El Micha, and some other white reggaetonero I didn’t recognise, arrived. Also Yasser from Salsa Mayor, with a posse. There were probably more I missed. Finally we heard Edith Massola doing her “la gente de MEXICO!” schtick at 1.30 and I went in. Alas, this was not the introduction to the band I had hope: they didn’t arrived until 2am. By then my head was in my hands - though on the bright side, I had managed to commandeer a table. I thought about going home many times, while the reggaeton and house blared out, but I stuck with it.
When the group arrived I saw that Alain had made some changes. His male corista, who had been with him since I first saw him in 2006, and was a good singer, but not the prettiest guy in the world, had been replaced by peroxided blonde with an ample bosom and big, blindingly white teeth. The Betty/Veronica-style tecladista who was always the epitome of cool, had been replaced by a guy, and the awesomely funky and spunky bajista - perhaps my favourite of all - had also gone. I almost shed a tear for that one. Wonder where he is now. Still, apart from some ropey trumpets in the opening number, which were quickly rectified, the band sounded pretty good. It was the usual mix of songs I knew (Esa muchacha, Pa que no lloraras, La Miky), new jams, and Manolin songs, although he’s now doing Dios sabe and Pelo suelto y carretera instead of Ella no vale nada and whatever else it was last year. The crowd loves those, and they are pretty young too, so maybe there is hope for timba yet. During Aparentamente ideal he did a terrific improv about Cuban music and all the bands, using coros from Los sitios enteros. NG la Banda are playing there on Saturday and he was hyping it up a bit - I think he’s one of the guests - with Mayito and sundry others. He was saying PMM is at Macumba and Disco fiesta at the Marina, but come here for NG! Not sure the crowd will be into it, even with the star guests and free beer for the first 100 people on offer. I think we’re going to Salsa Mayor at Galiano, just in case it gets cancelled at el Cafe on Monday again. It pays to think ahead here, because hardly anyone else does...
Alaín said that next week it’s the third anniversary of his residency at the Capri and there will be a bunch of guests - Gente d’Zona, Micha, 0 Copia and I forget who else. But they’re all reggaetoneros and that might be my cue to go to Galiano and finally see Charanga Latina, seeing as they don’t seem to play anywhere else. I might do Tumbao Habana at el Cafe in the afternoon too, just so I don’t spend all day in Galiano.
I’m way behind on the posts: been doing a lot and no time to blog, but will try to catch up over the next couple of days. Coming up: a trip to Pinar del Rio with Maraca and Combinación de la Habana’s cool Saturday peña and Salsa Mayor’s Father’s day eve gig.

The right combination

After Friday’s big day out, I was pretty knackered. I was awake at noon and an afternoon nap was thwarted by hideous Latin ballads booming from the adjacant apartment. I must have dozed in spite of it, because suddenly it was six o’clock, and time to get our sequinned asses down to Galiano for Combinación de la Habana’s Saturday arvo shindig. We were late, but so was one of the band - we saw the bass player hurry in at 7.15, which explained why they hadn’t yet hit the stage. Inside, a big crowd was happily drinking and dancing to reggaeton. Lester from Maraca’s group turned up - he has been doing some demos with the group’s musical director Eugenio. It seemed like just hours since we had last seen him - oh wait, it was. Once the bass player was ready to go, the band hit the stage. I liked them even more than last week. The main singer, Yulián is incredibly charismatic and, er, handsome with, ahem, a very pleasing physique. He’s a masterful MC and confident performer. I probably should have put that before the stuff about his looks; but it’s all true, honest. You can see for yourself on my return when I upload the video. The moña - the funky song I liked last week, I liked even more this week. There was some outrageous dancing with shirts lifted, though nothing that came even close to the debauchery of the cintura contest of the previous night.
All my photos from Galiano this year are shite. They have a bank of lights but only about a dozen switched on, and they are blues and reds and greens - not great for actually shedding light on anyone or thing. I wonder if there is some energy-saving going on here. After dinner we went to a restaurant on Neptuno that usually has freezing air-con. Tonight it was switched off, and they just had a couple of fans on, one of which was switched off half way through our meal (actually I think they just wanted us to leave so they could go home). By contrast, the air-con in Galiano continues to be freezing and I appear to be coming down with a sore throat.
We took Lester with us to dinner then hung out in the casa, drinking and dancing, and listening to him sing a bit - he likes to sing, and luckily for us he has a beautiful voice - before going back down to Galiano for Salsa Mayor. They finally laid bitumen on San Miguel and of course everyone threw loads of rubbish all over it before it had dried and now it’s embedded in the new tar. Nice.
When we arrived we found a hilariously oversized poster of Maikel out the front (see pic). Señor Blanco is a humble man. I had tried to time it so we wouldn’t have to endure the agonising cabaret, but they may not have had it anyway as it wasn’t your normal Saturday night: the gig had the bizarre title of “esperando el dia de los padres”. Inside it was very, very busy - entrada was in moneda nacional as well as CUC.
Lester introduced us to Maikel. Actually we’ve met him a gazillion times but he always acts like it’s the first. That’s pretty funny.
The guys filed into the backstage area soon after we got there, which was awesome. Not so awesome: they started playing and there was no bass and no piano - this is, I think, the third time this has happened when I’ve seen Salsa Mayor. They managed to fix the bass, but not the piano, and after some brave adlibbing by the percussionists and vocalists, the curtain came down and the reggaeton started up again. Ten minutes later, they tried again, starting with Anda y pegate, one of my favourites, with Pavel on vocals. His voice sounds better than last year but it’s still nothing special. But he still has something that the ladies (not this lady) like. The second was a new song sung by Yordi, and this one is really pretty good. I should have videoed it but I was preoccupied by trying to get a decent still photo, I should have given up and just enjoyed myself. The rest of the rather brief set was all new songs too. Yordi has another good one; Pavel has one that is OK called El queso and Yasser has one that is very ordinary - so the new songs are Maikel’s usual mix of the quite good and the very average. He mystifies me.
There was a lot of talk about felicidades for the fathers and I said to MFF, “Are we going to have to listen to this shit all night?” It’s worse than mothers’ day, seeing as the bands consist mostly of men - it’s their opportunity to congratulate each other - and themselves. They don’t hold back.
Eugenio from Combinación de la Habana was there with his rucksack of tools slung over his shoulder. I said - did you actually leave or have you been here all night? He could have asked the same of me, I guess.

Formell – yo me quedé

Y despues de todo qué?

I suppose, when your three favourite bands are away, in Europe (Havana D’Primera), the US (Pupy) or the provinces (Revé), you could do worse than Los Van Van as a back-up. Their Galiano matinee capped off a fulfilling day which followed yesterday’s total bust, which culminated in us turning up to a completely deserted Cafe Cantante at 12.15am to find that Salsa Mayor had cancelled because either a) someone in the band was sick or b) the air conditioning was broken. Seeing as the venue has a full line-up booked for the week (Yulien Oviedo Tuesday matinee; Leoni Wednesday; Monica Mesa Wednesday night; Baby Lores Friday matinee) I doubt it’s the latter.
We have heard that Miramar is closed because the air conditioning is busted, and that’s why Klimax didn’t play on Friday and possibly why there was no matinee on Monday. However, the radio is still listing bands as playing there (Aragón Monday night; Pedrito Calvo Tuesday matinee). When it’s someone I really want to see I’ll investigate further and try and confirm what’s going on (as if). I would like to see Aragón, but really want to see them a lo Cubano at Los Jardines, in lieu of Salón Rosado. It seems that Los Jardines has a matinee every Friday - this week it’s Bamboleo. I wish I’d got my shit together to see Azucar Negra there last week. Anyway. We might be on a bus to Pinar del Rio this Friday to see Maraca. But hey, who the hell knows. I’ll keep you posted.
So after yesterday’s bust, today looked set to continue in the same vein as we got to the pescaderia in Vedado too late (2.30) to find they were pretty much out of everything. I didn’t realise it closed at 3. On the bright side, one of the shops at Vedado had sugar, so that’s one thing sorted. Things continued to look up back in Centro, where I got homemade yoghurt from a solar, and found cabbage and mamey (mamey!) at the agronomico on San Rafael. Came home and made batidos ahead of an early dinner (chicken, potaje de frijoles negros, green beans, platanos maduros) before going down to Galiano about 7.
The support band had finished - I believe it may have been Sello LA - and the DJ was cranking out reggaeton. Unlike last week at the same time when it was crowded with couples dancing to salsa cubana, it was practically empty. After about three songs, he switched to house/techno/whatever you call it these days. After a while a few people got onto the dance floor. It seemed entirely the wrong approach for a Van Van gig, especially after what I’d seen the previous week. Don’t know if it was a new DJ or a new management directive. Trabuco’s Leonardo was in the audience - they got back into town from the States yesterday - as was Yasser from Salsa Mayor. I had a mind to ask him WTF happened last night, but I had a brain freeze and couldn’t for the life of me remember his name.

I scooted down the front when I heard the Casa de la Musica theme song, because I wanted to get a good spot for photos, as all my pics pretty much sucked last week. I realised one of the reasons I like Van Van so much more now is they have stopped played one of my most hated songs of all time Tim con Pop or whatever it’s called (I know they say know thy enemy but I draw the line at learning the name of that song). Their set is 100 per cent improved without it as far as I’m concerned.
It was pretty much the same set as last week which means it was pretty great. The other good thing about these matinees is that they’re not particularly crowded - they’re just right people-wise. Once the band starts, the dance floor is full - but not so full that you take your life into your own hands if you want to dance - and there are empty seats if you want to sit down and rest, you know, during a Mayito song. There was a mob there from Yoruba Andabo, and the singers got up during Si a una mamita to have their moment on stage with Van Van. Of course they’re all pretty good. One of the guys had his T-shirt tucked into his undies. Dear god. Why? Why!? Jenny from YA was also there doing a spot of guaguancó and salsa with some guy who was a mate of the band’s.
I had an excellent dance with Lester, who of course is a teacher here, and of course, knows my teacher here. He had some lovely moves, a terrific lead, and a nice a playful attitude to boot. Cheers, Lester!
There was mostly a pretty congenial atmosphere. It was very pleasant. My highlights were pretty much as last week - Yeni was divine, Me mantengo I don’t think I will ever tire of; ditto Anda ven y quiereme, and Robertón is a living legend. Mayito actually arrived on stage with the others during the opener this week, so maybe he really was doing his hair last week.
The band are off to Europe at the beginning of July. There will be a bit of swapsies going on - Havana D’Primera and Pupy return as LVV and Revé leave. Trabuco go a little bit later - July 15, I think. We’re off July 18.
It’s kinda weird to not have a full dance card every day but I don’t mind. I was bloody tired before I got here: I need a rest, and I don’t really get one here usually. Having said that, nothing is keeping me from Alain Daniel this week - with the exception of unforseen circumstances - and Azucar Negra and Tumbao Havana are both doing matinees so that means it’s one of those double shift days which are knackering. I’m probably going back to see Azucar Negra, even though I want to see Tumbao Havana, cause I’m in love with Ailyn. (Now you know. My secret is out. But Yeni is my one true love.)
El Capri has Paulito up for Sunday. No idea how reliable that is, but if it’s on, I’ll, I dunno, have a disco nap or something, so I can make it.

Dancing in the rain

Los chamacos del Combinación de La Habana

So I found out from Facebook that Paulito was playing the Capri last night, but I didn’t log on till 12.50am and I hate the Capri anyway and it’s a bugger to get to from my place so late. He was utterly disappointing when I last saw him in 2008, but still sings well, and I like his song Este año and his duet with Trabuco. He does matinees sometimes so maybe I can catch him at one of those. If not, maybe next week at the Capri, when I have steeled myself for the prospect.
So Facebook turns out to be another source of info for gigs in Havana - if you have a connection that functions well enough. I have greeked the pictures in Firefox but it still takes forever to connect and often the pages take ages to load and then time out so you have to retry. I’m thinking of going to Hotel Plaza and paying a fortune for their speedy server.

Ricardito, who was singing with Son Yoruba last year, came by yesterday - mainly to make sure I was going to see him sing with his new band Combinación de la Habana at a Galiano matinee later that day. Not long after we left last year, he got a call from the group asking him to join. As Son Yoruba didn’t work very much, and CdlH have the Saturday peña at Galiano (they were doing it last year too) and sundry other gigs, he made the move. I was waiting for My Fellow Farandulera to arrive from Sydney via Santiago de Chile, but when she did, she was (not surprisingly) in no mood to rush out to a matinee. So I skipped out on my own. The bitumen on San Miguel has been razed, but new tar had not yet been laid down, so Neptuno seemed like a better option, even though it seems like a longer walk when you can see your destination from about 700 metres away.
I arrived late and they were already well into what I imagine was their first song. The dance floor was busy and it was mainly Cubans, who had paid the 60MN entrada ($10 extranjeros). Ricardo is one of three boy singers, and not only are they all good performers and improvisers, but I was shocked to find that not one of them sang out of tune. They aren’t the prettiest singers I have seen in Havana, so there is a trade off, but this is the way I would rather have it.
They have an electric bass, and their sound is bottom heavy so Galiano is not the best place for them, but I liked what they had to offer. Not sure that they have any truly great songs yet, but they’re certainly entertaining, and what’s more, the fact that they blend successfully non-saccharine elements of pop with salsa/timba is very refreshing. The musical director had a familiar face - he’s a stocky negrito with corn rows called Eugenio who Ricardito says used to work with Michel Maza, among others. Ricardo has been given their big hit to sing, El avion, and he totally nailed it.
Walking back up Neptuno, two cops were checking the carnets of a couple of young chaps. One of the cops was sitting in the passenger seat of the police car running their names through a laptop. Pretty high-tech stuff!
Went and got something to eat (pargo!) then chilled in the casa, watching the action on Belascoain, which included a group of about six teenage boys doing a rumba in front of the carniceria. That’s what you come to Cuba for!
Cops turned up here too, and took a couple of guys out of the unofficial parada downstairs, put them in handcuffs, loaded something of theirs into the boot, and drove them away. Not much of a fun Saturday night for them.

Lester, from Maraca's band

Today there were two possible possibilities: Maraca at the Casa de la Cultura in Vedado, and the matinee at Los Jardines de la Tropical. I found out the reason they weren’t answering the phone last week at Salon Rosado - it’s closed for renovations. Beauty. Anyway, Los Jardines is picking up the slack, apparently. I almost made it out there on Friday to see Azucar Negra - I had planned to see Klimax at Miramar, and as I had heard from the pianista that it was on, I thought that it was actually happening, but I decided, on a whim, to check at about 5.30, only to be told that there were was no one on there after all. The problem with switching to Los Jardines is that it’s an earlier finish (8pm) and it’s harder to get to - at 6pm, there are no cars, and I had no idea where to get a maquina. I was probably cutting it too fine anyway, and after 20 minutes of fruitless waiting in the streets I cut my losses and accepted a music-less Friday (still don’t know what happened to Klimax).
Anyway. I called Los Jardines at about 5pm today only to have a hilarious conversation with someone who had no idea who was on as he said he had only picked up the phone because he was passing by when he heard it ringing but, he told me, “it’s full of people!” He told me to ring another number. I was then told that it was “cerrado”, ie there was so many people that they weren’t letting any more in. Maraca it was then.
He was slated to play at about the same time as the daily storm and we got there at 5.30pm to find the band playing their electrical instruments, in the rain, on an uncovered stage. Terrifying. There were some people standing on the periphery of the Casa’s courtyard and others dancing near the band, but after that song they stopped playing. About five minutes later the sky cleared and they hit the stage again for a full set that went off without a hitch and, I must say, it was an absolute delight. I had completely forgotten - in fact I’m not sure I knew - that Maraca has Lester (Bakuleye, Azucar Negra, Salsa Mayor) and El Nene (NG la Banda, Revé) singing with him - two of my top 10 favourite Cuban singers (currently residing in Cuba) - if indeed I could even make it stretch as far as 10. If it was disappointing to see Jose Miguel leave - another great singer, who is back in his hometown of Cienfuegos apparently - the two new guys more than make up for his absence.
It was free entry and it was the usual wonderful mix of people you find at La Tropical - young and old, ladies dancing with enormous bags, people in their Sunday best. Man I love that shit. You dress up because it’s a special occasion, because it bloody is (says the woman wearing a denim skirt and tank top).
The band itself was probably the chic-est looking Cuban group I have ever seen - not a sparkle anywhere, and everyone - except for Maraca, who was wearing a white shirt - dressed in shirts in varying shades of lilac and purple, some with checks, some block colours. Very nice and subtly co-ordinated. I could take a guess and say that Maraca’s wife/manager/all-round beauty Celine might have been behind it.
Honestly, I’m not familiar with a lot of the band’s recent stuff, so I can’t name the songs - I know they did the one they play on Disco Fiesta most days (Lo digo yo, maybe), and it sounded great; they did A la hora que llamen voy, and a mambo by Beny Moré. Other than that, all I can tell you is that the band was cooking and the singers were smoking. I’ve never seen either El Nené or Lester before; only heard them on disc - and they were both full of energy, great improvisers and could hold a tune beautifully. Something that can’t be said of a lot of singers here, though having said that, I’m on a roll, cause the three boys yesterday did a pretty good job as well. The metales were in tune and played with panache, and Maraca graced us with some pretty solos. There were a few musicians there, so there were a few sit-ins. Everyone had a grand old time.
Afterwards I introduced myself to Lester and told him I was a fan, and he thanked me for saying so and told me he was very touched to know it. Bless. I asked Maraca how he got two of the best singers in Cuba, and he made that rolling of the fingers motion they make to indicate someone has stolen or snatched something. I said, I thought Lester had gone to Mexico? He said, he did, I went and got him! He was joking around. Everyone was feeling pretty good I think. It was that kind of gig.
It’s their only Havana gig before a European tour next month. They have a couple of gigs in Pinar del Rio and they invited us along on Friday. Probably the only thing that could keep us in town would be Revé, and as they’re likely to be playing the arse-end of the country, we’ll probably take them up on the offer.

La buena de la Habana

Los cantantes de Azucar Negra

My eyes snapped open yesterday morning at 10.30 (having mercifully slept right through, instead of spending two hours awake between five and seven am, thanks to jetlag) and I thought, “hotter than Mercury - they found ice on Mars, so that would make it roughly the same temperature as the interior of Casa de la Musica”. Thanks to anyone who noticed/pointed it out. The rapid change from 36C to 16C must have snap-frozen my brain.
Yesterday was music-free - spent it chilling and looking for coffee. There is a shortage here for some reason. The Cubita I had felt lucky for finding on Sunday turned out to be corrupt and tasted absolutely foul. I don’t know what’s in it, but whatever it is, it didn’t come from a coffee bean. Although you can get it on the libreta, and it’s very good these days (a friend kindly made me some), the dollar shops are empty of it. After a fruitless search which took in the supermarkets of Miramar (I had already exhausted those of Centro Habana, from Galiano, through Belascoain up to Carlos Tercero) I thought: the hotel souvenir shops! Sure enough, there it was: Black gold! An entire cabinet of the stuff. Bought two packets. I have just made my morning cafecito and it’s an enormous improvement. Gracias a dios.
Today there were three groups I could have happily seen all playing matinees: not just Azucar Negra and Salsa Mayor, as I mentioned in my last post, but also Tumbao Havana. Do these guys not co-ordinate? Where were the salsa groups when Yulien Oviedo was playing Cafe Cantante on Tuesday? or Los Salvajes at Galiano on Monday? And I suppose when Trabuco get back, it will be Azucar Negra/Salsa Mayor/Trabuco competing. The new Trabuco album has at least one song that I like (Mi filosofia, with Paulito), which puts it one up on their last “salsa” album (note inverted commas) Control.
Disco Fiesta mentioned that Tumbao Havana were “playing” Bailar es Algo Más at Teatro America yesterday. Interesting that they’re promoting that now. It’s an experience, but not a terribly exciting one, as there is no room to dance, and the band is miming anyway.
I discovered that the Palacio de la Rumba is situated in an old cinema in Cayo Hueso near Parque Trillo (sp?), only a few blocks from my house - how convenient. Combinacion de la Habana were on there today, annoyingly - another band I want to see, now that Ricardito (Salsa Mayor/Son Yoruba) is singing with them. I decided to stick with my first choice, but I went to investigate anyway.
Cayo Hueso is renowned as a bad neighbourhood - worse than Centro Habana; and even though it’s only a handful of blocks from my place on Belascoain, the difference is marked.
The venue faces Parque Trillo, a rather soulless cement square bordered by San Miguel and San Rafael and dwarfed on the San Rafael side by tall, depressing 1960s-ish flats. Some guys were loading in beer as I looked at the cartelera. The dreaded Moncada are there tomorrow for a casino night - it’s baffling to me how a non-salsa band became the group of choice for the rueda gigs. Who are they paying for that privilege? Bamboleo are down for the Sunday matinee, from 4pm. The night gigs look like they might fill the hole between the other matinees and the usual late night slots at the other clubs, as they go from 8pm-midnight, which I guess means the headline act is on at about 10-ish.
I don’t know how dangerous the neighbourhood is really. But it’s probably wise to exit late at night by one of the busier streets, like Neptuno or Zanja, rather than strolling down Sans Miguel or Rafael. I’ll keep you posted.

About 4pm it started raining. It pissed for a while, then stopped and started. But Galiano had a reasonable turn out for Azucar Negra, including quite a few Cubans mixed in with the groups of very blonde mostly extranjeras. Ailyn was divine as ever, though she seemed to be a little under the weather and I wondered if the rain had brought on her asthma (not sure if that’s how it works, but I know she suffers from it). She only sang three songs, which was disappointing, leaving the lion’s share to Dayan. They have two new singers since I saw them last year - both guys: a prieto and a blanco, so they have the set now.
The set was the usual mix of Limonta’s very very good songs (Estres, the new La mala de la pelicula, La identidad, Que pasa con las mujeres) and the very bad (the execrable Amor por el internet, and some horrible merengue fusion thing sung by one of the new boys). It never ceases to amaze me how both can wind up in the same repertoire. Dayan’s voice is sometimes a little weak, though he is still a much better singer than Rusdel and he is such a live wire that he is always compelling. All the boys were wearing black t-shirts with glittery motifs. Nice to see that style still enduring after so many years, though I see from the other gigs I’ve been to that Ed Hardy is giving it a run for its money.
I’d spoken to Aisar from Reve earlier in the day - thrilled to see they’re still here. He invited me to some peña on Quinta. I was eager to catch up with him, but not thrilled with the prospect of “bolero y bachata” - especially given that it’s been raining and I would have had to cross a bridge to get there. I flaked after I got home from Galiano, and eventually bailed on him. Now I’m writing this and trying to get the motivation to go out into empty Belascoain on my own and get myself over to the Capri for Alain Daniel. The thought of that obnoxious crowd isn’t doing anything to make me rush. Not to mention the labyrinth of tables and chairs. But seeing as the only other gig he seems to do is some thing where he sings boleros (apparently) on Wednesdays, I think this is it. But he’s not on for another 90 minutes yet. Sigh. I wish he would play Palacio de la rumba. Or a matinee. He probably doesn’t get up till 8pm. Actually once I saw him during daylight hours in his BMW at a petrol station. I thought I was seeing a ghost.
It’s almost midnight but I can smell a cake baking. Can’t imagine where that’s coming from. It’s one of the pleasanter smells that has emanated from Centro Habana.

El tren se va

If you think there aren’t many tourists in Havana at any one time, just got to a Van Van matinee: there they all are. The crowd at Casa de la Musica Galiano must have been 70 per cent dance teachers and their extranjeras.
It was freezing inside. I know it’s hotter than Mars outside, but does it have to be arctic in? I moved to the front of the stage when Van Van started, and had to quickly retreat from the blast of icy air emanating from the roof. I guess if the place had been jam-packed – as I had expected it would – the heat from the heaving bodies might have offset the chill. But as it was only comfortably full, I was left hugging myself for warmth.
They didn’t start until 7.30pm - there was a pretty ordinary support band first – which I thought meant they would only be playing for 90 minutes, which suited me fine, as Van Van tend to play a bit long for my liking.
They opened with Arrasando - Yeni, Lele and Robertón appearing on stage first, and Mayito arriving much later in the song, as if he were the star, and somehow better than Robertón. But of course, that can’t be right, so maybe he was just doing his hair and didn’t realise the band had started yet. Formell was singing coros in the front line with the singers and didn’t touch the bass all night.
Yeni followed with Tú a lo tuyo, yo a lo mío - I like Este amor que se muere much better, but she has such a lovely energy that I always love to watch her perform so I wasn’t grumbling. Mayito was up next with a rather dull song from Arrasando that I didn’t recognise then – whoop whoop! – Lele with Me mantengo. He was a little hoarse sounding but it still rocked. I fucking love that song. It’s almost grunge, it has so much grunt. A lovely turn from Robertón on Si no te quieres tú was followed by Si a una mamita which I adore - what a kicking jam that is. Very pleased to see it resurrected. Great for dancing. Then there was Yeni with Despues de todo. It’s funny how the guys leave the dancefloor for that one. I don’t mind: more room for me. An optometrist picked me up for a spin. He was quite a good dancer but I kind of missed Yeni’s performance. Should have danced with him to the dull Mayito song instead. There was Mi songo, which I actually enjoyed and at 9pm, when they started Anda ven y quiereme - another favourite – I realised that the matinee would be going long. Dale dos followed - another old beauty - then the curtain closing theme. We were at the two-hour mark by then and I was really ready to go.
It was a pretty relaxed crowd. Not too boisterous, just chilling and enjoying the show. I was very surprised there weren’t more people there, but I guess when you play every week at $20 a pop, it’s going to affect business. I wonder if they regret not doing the US tour after all.
I’ve had a quiet few days. I’m still working on the food situation and the heat is kind of interfering with things too. Last time I was here when it was this hot was 2004. I don’t remember being so bothered by it. I suppose I’ll acclimatise. I hope so. At the moment it’s almost impossible to spend hours roaming the streets – which was one of the sellos of my holiday – without dropping dead from dehydration. Plus side: I hardly ever have to go to the toilet.
Wednesday is traditionally a slow day, gigwise, unless you’re interested in Bamboleo, and even they are playing Varadero tomorrow, instead of Galiano, which says it is closed for the matinee. According to D-d-d-d-disco Fiesta, they’re also playing some venue called Palacio de la Rumba - obviously I’m not interested in seeing them but I’m always interested in a new venue. If anyone knows anything about it, please leave a comment.
Salsa Mayor and Azucar Negra both have matinees on Thursday – I’m team Ailyn (and Dayan), especially after the new demos, some of which are very good – so I’ll be seeing them. And I can see SM on Monday at Cafe Cantante. Still looking forward to Klimax on Friday. Their pianist, Dayramir, who used to sit in with Havana D’Primera, has been accepted to Berklee, and leaves in September, so this trip will be the last chance I have to see him with the band.

Havana 2010, Day 1

I arrived in Havana after various delays with LAN Chile (two hours in Sydney; four on Auckland) - the first I’ve experienced in all my years of travelling with them - and with a random Chileno I met on the plane in tow. I was glad to arrive but utterly knackered. I’d checked the carteleras earlier in the week and it didn’t look like there were any matinees I needed to rush to, so I took the Chileno for a walk through Centro Habana, past Galiano, to doublecheck the cartelera, and to the Hanoi in Havana Vieja for some kind of animal protein accompanied by delicious potaje de frijoles negros - or sopa, as they call it for some reason - which is the main reason to eat there. It was pretty quiet down for some reason - even the son band was quiet compared to the bulla they usually make. The food was good and plentiful and alas, I had no room for their flan, which costs $1.50 and is excellent. We walked back; I was planning on collapsing for the evening but the Chileno was up for a party - I thought the mindless chaos of PMM with its vacuous “dancing” girls might suit him, so I suggested Salon Rojo del Capri but had no intention of accompanying him. At 10.30 I decided to call them just to ask what was on. “Tonight we have a band called Havana d’Primera” said the nice lass who answered the phone. OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD. She probably thought I was mental. I delivered the news to my new friend that we were going to see the best band in the world. I thought they would already have left for Europe but here they were, ready to welcome me to Havana.
As the Capri is insuportable before the bands start, we went down to the Hotel Nacional gardens to have a drink and kill time till 12.30 or so. It was beautiful down there, as it always is, but there was very little breeze, even so close to the ocean, and the heat was stifling. The Malecon was choked with people out for a cheap Saturday night. Outside the Capri, various members of the group were assembled. I said hello to my old amigos - but Alexander was nowhere to be seen. Inside was the usual scene of jineteras and old blokes. Napoles had told me they would be on at 1 but it was almost 1.30 before the obnoxious Edith from Donde si no came out to do the interminable “todo le gente de Mexico” schtick. Finally they came on, starting with Resumen de los 90. ¡Que alegria!
Trumpet player Yuliesky is living in Germany now and El Boca, who started with the band but left to play with NG la Banda, was back. Miguelito, bongocero and occasional timbalero was missing, and there was someone else in his place but I have a sneaking suspicion that they were breaking him in to replace Rodney Barretto on the European tour. Just a guess.
Otherwise everything was the same. The awesome rumba-timba tour de force El palo de monte was the only new song played in its entirety. There was a snippet of something that sounds like it is going to to be the new introduction - part of the coro is: mano pa ‘riba la gente que son de primera.
Also in the set was Ahora que buscas, the Gente d’Zona adaptation Lola, Mi musica and
Cuando el rio suena which, puzzingly, was followed by Ony ony - probably my least favourite song of theirs, and I totally got busted looking bored and biting my cuticles by Alexander who asked me from the stage - and mid-song - what was wrong. Yikes. In my defence, I had been travelling for about three days and had only had about three hours sleep. I was back with him for Historia vedadera - ¡ay por dios! The crowd had started subdued but Alexander and his seemingly limitless energy and charisma had them all crowded around the tables by the end, shouting and jumping up and down.
The band started packing up after this, but Alexander wasn’t ready to go, even though they’d been playing for almost two-and-half hours, and it was nearing 4am, and he got them to play Despues de un beso for a closer. Que lindo.

Today (Sunday) I got up before 1 - before the shops shut - to buy some staples - mainly coffee and sugar. The big shop on the corner of Belascoain and San Miguel was shut due to malfunctioning cash registers. Shit. I went up the street, but pickings were slim, even at the other big store on the corner of Reina. I found coffee - gracias a dios - but nothing else I wanted. Tomorrow I shall go hunting further afield.

Spent the afternoon repeatedly calling La Tropical to find out who was playing the matinee with no response to any of their three numbers. Decided to go to Galiano for Charanga Forever, but I had read the cartelera wrong - they were playing the night; not the afternoon. The matinee was Alberto Herrero, who is pretty hideous. I went and visited a friend instead, then went and ate some excellent pargo with boniato and congris. My companion had an old sports injury that was playing up and needed to sit tonight out, so I am too. I have to sleep sometime. If he has recovered by Tuesday I’ll take him to the Van Van matinee at Galiano. They’re not my favourite, but I haven’t seen them since 2008 and it will be a good experience for someone unfamiliar with Havana. I have Klimax locked in for a matinee on Friday at Miramar and nothing else lined up yet. I have to find Reve before they go to the States. There’s nothing on the cartelera for tomorrow’s matinee at Galiano. Maybe I’ll get lucky.

NB It took more than 20 minutes for me to arrive at this page - what happened to the Venezeulan broadband?! - so any errors will just have to remain uncorrected. I have some pretty pictures but the blogger page won't load properly so they will have to wait. Ditto video.