Cold fever

Amaray sports a puffy jacket at Galiano

Well the lurgy has knocked me off my feet and had me more or less out of action for the week. After the ballet Yarima and I went to the Hanoi where we had my favourite, frijoles negros, and flan which would have been great if it hadn’t been drizzled with mint syrup. Weird choice. It was freezing when we left around 9 and the streets around Parque Central were almost completely devoid of pedestrians. There were a few on San Rafael, mostly guys who commented on either a) our gait or b) our relative hotness (my age is a factor that warrants comment).

Uyuni had said Havana D’Primera were playing el campo instead of Miramar, but it turned out they were playing in town - I guess the country gig got cancelled and they were able to hold on to the regular gig. It’s so weird that Miramar is locked up with regular gigs every night except Monday (which is the death slot).

Tuesday: Pedrito

Wednesday: Adalberto

Thursday: Sur Caribe

Friday: NG la Banda

Saturday: Bamboleo

Sunday: Havana D’Primera

Very grateful for the last one, but otherwise not very interested in any of the others.

Anyway, considering my cold and the night spent outdoors the previous day I decided to give it a miss in order to recuperate. Sob.

It didn’t work: Monday I felt worse. Thought I’d drop into the Trabuco matinee at Galiano anyway, just for a while. It was a late one, so I didn’t go till after 10. The place was about as packed as I’d ever seen it. Almost overflowing. It was insane. I met some interesting Americans at the ticket booth and spent the time before the band came on chatting to them.

Amaray appeared in a gigantic puffy jacket. I would have made a joke about that before the temperature dropped to 7C. (I am indebted to Japanese rumbera Masaco, now sadly back in Japan, for lending me a warm hooded top.)

There were great parties of people all dancing wildly with cups of rum in their hands. I found a spot literally at the foot of the stage, in front of Miguelito. They did a song I’d not heard before: had a Brazilian feel. Unusual. Not as good as the new Mayami song. When Pepitin took the mic, La Rubia said, Jeez, he’s even worse than the other two [singers]. It sounded like something I’d say, and I was really glad someone else had said it. Mayami really is the pick of the bunch at the moment, not just because it sounds like he’s done some serious work on his singing and it has paid off but because, unlike Amaray, he knows his limits and doesn’t over-reach and, unlike Pepitin, he can sing in tune.

When they did control Control I quit my position at the front which was a bad idea. Turned out that was the most sheltered spot: it was chaos everywhere else. I didn’t last much longer after that. A girl from the support band - who were rockeros of some kind - got up and sang - it wasn’t very interesting - and I left.

Tuesday, I felt worse. Given Havana D’Primera’s matinee has a comfort level of zero I decided to skip it and spend the entire day in the flat in hope that that would finally knock the fucking cold on the head. Watched some Dexter and read a great book (We Have Always Lived in the Castle, by Shirley Jackson, a gothic American mystery from the first half of last century) and some New Yorkers.

Turns out Duni, who never goes out, even though I invite him all the time, went to Havana D’Primera, and got up and played with them. La Rubia said the crowd was even more mental than usual, so I was glad I didn’t go.

Tuesday about 6.30 my sim card stopped working. The guy who had got it for me had cancelled it. Nice one, mate. Fortunately Martin said he’d get one for me. (Previously only foreigners could get them; now only Cubans can, or foreigners who are here for more than three months.)

When I woke up on Wednesday I felt worse. Cancelled my Spanish class but then I realised I felt a bit better. Took advantage of the fact that it wasn’t bitingly cold and heated some water to wash my hair. Went to Duni’s and found his loungeroom full of chicas rehearsing. Marbis has a New Year’s Eve gig at the hotel. Didn’t stay long: the sound was sweet enough but it was loud and my head couldn’t handle it. Duni kept talking about how Alexander called him to get up on stage - he was thrilled, and thought it was pretty funny that Alexander called him the conguero de Bamboleo. Been a while since he played with them.

Went home and Martin dropped my sim off on his way to see Machete at the Yarra in Vedado.

I decided to go to Pupy. When I got there I cringed: the place was seething with people. I realised that all the matinees would be like this for a while. Apart from work groups celebrating El fin de año, there are loads of cashed up Cubans from el extranjero all keen to see their favourite groups. I lurked up the back for a while, then La Rubia said she had a spot down the front, so I joined her and her mates in the corner. It was OK. But I might steer clear of the matinees for the next week or so. They’re just not much fun. I imagine the night gigs will be more sparsely attended. Gonna try for Tumbao Havana tonight.

I left with the Pupy percussion section - Duni, Bombón and Albertico. They were all stoked cause they had just received the news that they would be playing first at their January 1 gig at the Tribuna - they’ll be on at 9; they’ll play, then they can go home (in the case of Duni) or go and party (in the case of Dayan, I imagine - he’s a bit of a farandulero). Trabuco is on after them. I’m not sure I have warm enough clothes for those winds off the bay. I guess I could just layer on everything I brought with me.

All the other bands are playing in the suburbs or out of town: Azucar Negra are at Teatro America, then Cotorro (I’ll see them at the Teatro matinee the next day), Combinacion de la Habana are doing their usual Galiano matinee, then playing Guanabacoa, Havana D’Primera are at Pinar de Rio I think. Reve are in Matanzas. Lazaro is in Mexico, so Bamboleo are on enforced leave I guess. Not sure where Salsa Mayor are, but it’s out of town. Adalberto is at Galiano at night, but Miramar is closed.

I think Gente D’Zona are at La Tropical. Imagine the insanity.

Bailando en La Tropical y el Gran Teatro

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I may have to discontinue the blog if I don’t start going to see other bands. At the moment it’s a paen to Havana D’Primera, Elito Revé y su Charangon and Pupy. For all the options there were on Christmas Day (Combinacion de la Habana, Azucar Negra, HdP, Salsa Mayor), I only ended up doing one, even though in theory I could have seen probably three of them if I had wanted to. But the catarro had me by the throat and I whittled it down to - guess which? - Havana D’Primera at La Tropical. Feliz Navidad, baby.

I went down to the farmacia to buy vitamin C, going by San Rafael which was all buzzy cause it was Saturday. The “park” (it’s really a cement square with a few trees) hosts stalls from the nearby Fin de Siglo artesan market now, and on weekends there are also stalls selling food and drink. There were a lot of people just hanging out; had a nice vibe. Further down I saw one of the productores of Manolito. He was handing out flyers for the matinee larga and gave me a bunch to distribute. It finishes at 1, so I guess they’ll be on at 11 or so. I gave one or two to a couple of startled foreigners. Now I know how I look when Cubans accost me in the street.

On the way back I bought some prawns from the pescaderia on Neptuno but the veggie market on San Rafael was closed - for Christmas, I guess - so I had nothing to cook with them. Slung em in the freezer for another day.

I needed a nap but the crazy Canadian, who is here for three months and doesn’t seem to do anything much but play dominoes and listen to loud music, was blasting a Miami radio station on the terrace right next to bedroom, so that was out. Gave up, got up, cooked a boniato tortilla and headed for La Tropical.

Streets were pretty quiet for a Saturday - I guess everyone had overdone it the night before. La Tropical was probably a bit more than half full, but it was the weirdest thing: everyone was crowded into the back half. The reggaeton was blaring, but nobody was really dancing, and there was a huge empty space in front of the stage. The DJ might have got people moving if he had played something else but we’ll never know because he didn’t. Not once. Not for the 30-40 minutes until the band came on.

They blasted out to Resumen de los 90 then - the front of house audio died. They kept going oblivious, till it finally dawned. They stopped playing, and stood around until it was fixed. Then: bum-bum - off they went again. Alexander was clearly stoked to be playing to the pueblo. Giving it everything like he usually does and maybe a little bit more. He was going so hard there was actual steam coming off the top of his head for the majority of the gig. He changed the song selection as requested and it suited me just fine - no Ony Ony or Niña bonita (Confiesle was among the songs instead). About 1.15 as Cuando el rio suena was drawing to a close, the power - both on stage and off - cut out and the band stopped. But the crowd kept singing. The power quickly returned, and the band resumed, when it happened again, and again, and again, they just kept playing as if nothing had happened. It continued like this into the closer Levanta las manos la gente que son de primera.

It was actually quite fun. The crowd was fully into it. It was an awesome night.

Even if we did have to walk for miles to get a taxi home.

Lead dancer Viengsay Valdes in previous Alonso production of Giselle. Pic: Juventud Rebelde

Sunday was cold and rainy. The only thing I had committed to was the Cuban ballet at the Gran Teatro. Alicia Alonso appeared briefly on the mezzanine balcony briefly before it began and I must admit to a little thrill at seeing a living legend in the flesh.

The female dancers of the company opened the performance - perhaps 20 or more, in short stiff tutus, dancing to some very flowery music with striking precision. They were beautifully in sync - quite marvellous when you consider how many of them were on the stage at once. The same could not be said of the two couples that came afterwards: the males rarely hit their cues at the same time throughout the entire piece - it was maddening.

The third piece was the one that had been written in the largest curly letters on the cartelera, La muñeca encantada. It was two guys dressed in Pierrot outfits, and a woman in a lovely little short pink corseted number. All danced brilliantly, especially the young lady who did a bunch of turns on pointe towards the end that capped a terrific performance.

Pas de deux can either be very beautiful, or a little dull - the one on this program was just lovely. Beautifully danced by both partners. It was light, shimmery and elegant.

There was an intermission, then the company returned in black and white bodysuits, dancing to electronic music that, at its best recalled Kraftwerk, and at its worst, Vangelis. This choreography was clever and comical. The section was only about 15 minutes long and there was another intermission which seemed unnecessary, but when they returned for El Papillon, I saw why. The stage had a new set (the rest had just been backdrops) with elements that allowed the dancers to convert it from a class room into a stage, and then, when a scrim dropped, to show the dancers on stage seemingly form the wings. It was cleverly constructed and the dancing was very pretty but the story was totally naff and the supporting female character - the teacher - was pathetic.

Still it was an excellent afternoon’s entertainment, and I’m kicking myself for having come to Havana so many times before and not seen it more often. What was I thinking?

Oh right, timba. Yeah. More of that anon, no doubt.

Riveron returns

Amaray sings his heart out (recuperating drummer not pictured)

I had planned to see Trabuco at Cafe Cantante because they hadn’t played at Galiano on Monday and also because Andy had told me at Revé the previous night that Riverón would be back. I got held up and didn’t arrive till after 8, which was really too bad because I found the place only about a third full, which is just the way I like it - you can easily move around - or down to the front. It was perfect.
The way the matinees go up and down here totally puzzles me: El Cafe is usually packed to the gills week in; week out for Trabuco. And this week, there was one less opportunity to see them cause they skipped the Monday matinee, so where they fuck was everyone? Preparing for Buena Noche? Whatever.
They were doing Control, then launched into La noche, not long after I arrived. The best bit was that they hadn’t yet done the new song that Mayami sings. The few people that were there kind of cleared the floor for that one - cause it’s new I suppose, and cause it’s a bit slow. Mayami roamed the dancefloor as he sang and I roamed after him videoing it. I got excellent footage and the audio worked this time too, so I was thrilled about that. Expect to see it on Youtube anon. Afterwards, I asked Chino what it was called, he said No tengo ningun idea. Okeydokey. He said they haven’t recorded it yet.
The Elito posse was up the back as usual - Elito and his daughter Gretchen and her boyf Emilio. How weird to go out with your dad. I passed them on my way to find Riverón. Turns out he had pnuemonia; it came on suddenly. He has lost a fuckload of weight but he says he’s OK. He played like the monster he is. It was good to have him back. He was at a table with some other guys from the group: Miguelito (teclados), Pipi (trombone) and Chino. While I was there, one of the “productores” came over and told them that the Monday matinee was going to start later, that it wouldn’t be from 5, it would be from 7 and go till 11 - or something. I lent towards him to hear better, and they all laughed and said, “tell her!” And I’m like, dudes, don’t you know that all the extranjeros in Havana call me to know what’s on!
Some of those foreigners were off to “Mil ocho” as it’s called, because everyone’s too lazy to say 1830 in Spanish. They have casino there Thursdays as well as Sundays, without Moncada, but with another band that isn’t very good, but isn’t quite as bad as Moncada, apparently. I went to Zanja to buy a cajita of chicken and arroz frito. And then to bed.

• • •

Friday I had my trip to immigration to renew my visa. Always look forward to that one. Up at 8.15 and down at the office by the port at 9.15. There were only about half a dozen people there but I knew that was no guarantee of a speedy visit. I was there about 90 minutes, which is a long time, but is less than some other times I have been there. I have finally realised that the key to jumping the queue is to go with a very old person or a very young person (a baby or toddler). Martin added “or someone with some kind of handicap - a blind person”. Check. Next time, I might rent a toddler.
I like the new location cause it’s right next to the Feria, which otherwise I wouldn’t bother going to cause it’s so out of the way, so I went down there and perused the stalls and bought some crocheted shit. Also discovered an unpopular Etecsa outlet where I can buy a phoneline without waiting one squillion years. Valuable info.
I wasn’t up for any matinees, and there wasn’t anything I wanted to see. I know I should give Klimax another chance, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I needed a nap but the fiesta for Noche Buena - and the hideous music (Mexican, bachata, house, PR salsa) started at early at my house, so I hightailed it to Duni’s house, where Marbis was making an excellent dinner and they were playing Havana D’Primera. All right.
Pupy were playing Galiano later. The singers had apparently done a TV show earlier and all looked very smart in black suits with red accessories. Didn’t get any pics because I had forgotten (for the second time this trip) to put my SD card in my camera. Fuck, shit etc.
The place was pretty crowded. Lots of tourists. Everyone dancing.
(Shit the weather is on and we have a top of 18 on Monday with a low of 10. I’m going to freeze my fucking ass off. Remind me who told me it doesn’t get cold in Havana? 10 is cold in anyone’s language, surely.)
The DJ played Si a una mamita and when a guy popped up in front of me I thought, why not. Big fucking mistake. I’m not sure what time he was dancing to, but it was at least twice as fast as the song. I just stayed on the beat and hoped he would take my cue. He started with some fancy footwork, leaving me hanging with fuck-all to do then he - wait for it - did the splits. En serio. I mean it wasn’t the worse dance I’ve ever had but I was relieved when it was over. At the end he said, you dance like a man. I said, you don’t dance with your partner, and walked off.
Later on I was at the bar talking to La Rubia, when I felt something rubbing up against me: the same guy had come out of nowhere and was humping my leg. I suppose there is some way he could have been creepier, but I’m not sure how. I pushed him off me and he just kept coming at me. I’m like, dude leave me alone, I’m talking to my friend. After a bit more actual physical sparring, he went away, but he watched me all night. I wondered if he was going to chase me up Neptuno at 3am.
Pupy y los que Son Son were good, again. Dayan knocked my socks off, again. I can never take my eyes off him. The singing; the dancing; the dazzling smile. Bless. They did some lame ballad medley for Noche Buena. They were famous songs I think, but I didn’t know any of them. La Rubia said the one Noro sang was Pablo Milanes. Dayan sang his beautifully. Actually it surprised me cause I haven’t seen him do that kind of thing before. Man for all seasons.
Estaba catarrada - de nuevo. And the smoke and lack of sleep knocked me off my feet. I sat down halfway through La Machucadera and didn’t really get back up again. Jeez that song is a powerhouse. There was this older woman, maybe in her early 60s down the front. Short, portly, in a jumper and jeans. Couldn’t dance salsa for shit. Big smile on her face. Again I say, bless.

All on for young and old

El Noro

I didn’t go to see Trabuco on Thursday, cause I don’t like them so much at El Cafe, and now there is the option to see them every Monday at Galiano instead, which is like one big happy party. So you know what happened: their Monday gig was cancelled. Of course it was. The replacement was PMM Light. Yay. Not. Los Confidenciales were on at Miramar and Jota G, the son of the late revolutionary Juan Almeida who is a fixture in the audience at the Capri, was playing with his newish timba band at Cafe Cantante. A few of the foreigners headed off to that but I don’t really feel I can support him (also he is shit, not surprisingly), so I decided to sit the matinee slot out.

Around 1 in the arvo Ricardo from Combinacion de la Habana turned up, which was a nice surprise. Haven’t seen him yet this trip. He really is such a nice chap. So unassuming. I was pleased to be able to burn him a copy of Mandy’s recent album cause he is a massive fan, and let’s face it, it’s not bad thing if a young singer wants to immerse himself in the work of a master like that. I had some live stuff with Mandy too that I threw his way. He said he would bring me some new demos CdlH has recorded. They have done one with Tirso. I said I didn’t understand why tecladista/arranger Eugenio was singing one of the new songs when they had three excellent singers. He was defending him, but really. Eugenio doesn’t have much of a voice: it’s a weird choice.

Anyway, I had planned to see them the previous Saturday and they weren’t on and he said it’s cause they were playing the Monday night and they couldn’t do two gigs at the same place so close together. When it was confirmed that Trabuco - who had played there on Saturday night - was suspendido for the day, he said, See?

Pupy y los que Son Son were doing a radio recording for transmission for the end of year festivities and later in the day I went looking for Duni at his house. He wasn’t there but Marbis was there cooking dinner - she wasn’t waiting for him cause she said she was dying of hunger and bless her cotton socks she fed me - awesome congris and chicken and a great salad and yuca. Anyone who has been here will understand: homecooked meals are the best.

I transcribed the English lyrics to a Juan Luis Guerra song she wants to do with her band. She has a gig at Hotel Panorama. They have to do some dire songs (Yesterday, among them), but it’s work, so you know, whatever.

Duni finally came home and I told him I had eaten his dinner (mentira: there was plenty) then he went to watch Raul’s extra-long speech on television. He was talking about the imminent changes and why they have to happen. He’s right. Not sure why he had to take so long to say it. I thought he was famous for short speeches. Adalberto Alvarez was among those in parliament listening to it. Duni says he is a “consejo”. A council member I guess. Not sure about the political ins and outs here.

The previous Friday, the phone at the casa had been fuera del servicio for about 24 hours. When Etecsa did nothing about, the landlord had a go at fixing it himself. Now the internet functions so well it’s almost like having broadband. Well not really. But the pages load and they don’t take forever, so you should be seeing me around more and I won’t have to bottle up the posts for days. Be a bit easier on the eyes. I came home and was so happy conectada that I didn’t realise it was 12.30 already and I needed to get my ass down to Galiano for CdlH.

I shot down a near empty Neptuno - pleased to see the lights all working now.

Down at the Casa the band was already on, playing to a modest but enthusiastic crowd. The sound wasn’t awesome. It showed up Eugenio’s weakness singer even more markedly, as the others, singing coro, all overshadowed him. His is a good song though. This band has oodles of funk. Too bad Egrem won’t give them a record deal. Guess they don’t know the right people. Oh hush my mouth.

Ricardo had gone from my house to the barber and was now sporting a kind of reverse Elito: all shaved on the top with like a wedge at the base of the neck. Wacky. Ricardo has kind of an edgy, new wave look. I like it - it isn’t that common here. Good to see someone thinking outside the square.

They wrapped up about 1.40, so I saw almost an hour. They’re back in their Saturday afternoon slot this week but it’s a monster day: as well as their gig, there is Azucar Negra at El Palacio, HdP at La Tropical and Salsa Mayor at Galiano. Not long ago there used to be fuck-all on Saturdays: Waldo Mendoza at Cafe Cantante and Bamboleo at Miramar and something totally crappy for the matinee at Galiano. WTF happened?

• • •

Tuesday. Sigh. A great Spanish class with my awesome teacher, then a fucking headache and after a visit from a friend, a liedown in a darkened room. I was pretty determined to go to HdP at Miramar though. Probably wasn’t a very good idea. Went with La Rubia, a fellow farandulera in town for a while who has a car (awesome!) and got there late - 7.30 - they hadn’t started, so thank fucking Christ we didn’t get there earlier. It was jampacked, as usual. Tony Rodriguez was absent. I always miss him. I really love his style. It’s so spare and, I don’t know, almost idiosyncratic. The guy in his place was the same one who had played in his absence a couple of weeks previously, and I now know who he is cause he was on Donde si no last Saturday: his last name is Pacheco (maybe Jorge Luis, but don’t hold me to that). He’s OK. He’s no Tony Rodriguez.

They started, puzzlingly, with corista Jannier on congas - doing a pretty good job too - and Napoles playing guitar and singing coros. Halfway through Resumen de los 90, the conguero arrived - regrettably not the Italian model from Sunday but a much less attractive chap. Oh well.

The band lifted me for a while, but the people and the lights and everything was too much. I saw other people leaving and I wanted to go too, but my choffer was down the front dancing her ass off. I went up the back: it was darker and bit more low key up by the DJ booth and Alexander got me into it again.

They actually sounded a bit ragged on some songs - the beginning of one of the new ones was all desafinacion to my ears, but no one stage seemed to notice so maybe it was my headache. The horns were completely messed up on the intro to Historia Verdadera and everyone on stage did notice that.

Some foreign chick got up for a bit of a trumpet solo at the end of Cuando el rio suena and Alexander joined her. We might not have even got one if it weren’t for her cause I noticed he borrowed one from the metales: he hadn’t even brought his to the stage.

• • •

On Tuesday night I spoke to Jelien, the violinist, and he told me would be recording his parts for the Alvarez project the following day. I went down to Egrem very late - spent more than an hour in the bank waiting to buy stamps for the visa extension - oh joy - and when I got there, the Alvarez peeps weren’t down there - and hadn’t been there all day. But Duni was down there with pianist extraordinaire Rolando Luna, and Havana D’Primera’s Yandy and trombonist Carlito, among others. They were assembled to record a project for a Cuban muso who lives in Japan now. Pretty cool crew to have on your record. They were doing a tropical fusion thing. Yandy was playing bass in the control room while Duni, a guirero and Rolando recorded in the studio. Yandy is the bomb. I may have said that before.

Carlito is this old guy who looks like a teddy bear. He has been to Australia twice with Cubanismo and was eager to talk about it. Later Duni said he used to play with Irakere. Doesn’t surprise me given the calibre of Alexander’s musos. Don’t think there are any slouches among them.

Afterwards, Duni and his ex-pat mate went next door for a cerveza, Duni seemingly forgetting that he had a matinee with Pupy and had to be there at 6. We got to Miramar about 6.50. Early enough for my liking, that’s for sure.

It was busy, but not uncomfortable. Band sounded great. There was not enough Dayan. They did La fiera, which is one of those Pupy songs that starts off lame, then later, in the live version anyway, has some vicious funk grooves in it. I was going off my head. Been turning my external drive inside since then trying to find the live version I was sure I had, with no luck.

When they do La fiera, there isn’t much time for much else - as well as a bunch of motivo grooves, it has a piano solo - I don’t know how long it goes for, but it’s a long time. So the selection was a little limited - there was no Pogolotti for example.

There were some low spots: Seis semanas bores me, and having Noro sing it isn’t going to endear it to me. Parece mentira was borderline: a prieto asked me to dance and I said yes, on a whim and I think that was the best way to spend that song, as he had some good moves and it probably made it a bit more interesting than it would have been otherwise.

I’m revising my opinion of the new song I heard at La Tropical. When it started, I meandered away from the front back to where Alexander (that’s Abreu) was sitting, but the solid funk of the groove drew me back to the stage and I got some video. The vocal isn’t much more than some shouted words, but the groove is to die for. The whole thing is pretty shambolic in a totally awesome way.

There was some pretty chaotic cintura dancing on stage. Once the girls got up on stage, you couldn’t get them off - or keep them off it. It was La Tropical all over again.

Elito takes over at Pupy's matinee

As well as Alexander, Elito turned up - so now worries about missing any of Revé’s “matinee” at El Palacio then. He got up towards the end to shout some inanities and spruik the Palacio gig. We went more or less straight there: big mistake. We got there about 9.30 and the same rumba band was on that had played when I had last seen Revé there. They played. And played. And played. Sigh. A local came up to me and said, “Do you like rumba?” I said, “I hate it.” He looked at me and said, “Are you Cuban?” That’s a big LOL right there.

(Before I get flamed: I don’t hate it - I appreciate the role it plays in timba - boy do I appreciate it - no rumba; no Si me quieres conocer just for starters. And scratch half of Revé’s set. But when it’s not mixed with a swingin’ piano tumbao and some bateria and a grooving bass … it’s not my thing. And when it holds up the arrival of one of my favourite orquestas, Senora Cranky emerges.)

El Charangón finally came on about 11.30. Shit. Some matinee. They played till almost 1. I’d been freezing in the air conditioning and stiffening up from dancing to Pupy then standing around bored. But they got me to my feet with De que estamos hablando, Niña relajate and the rest. La boda de la bicicleta was a nice addition. Great song I haven’t listened to enough. There is a great vibe at El Palacio. It has its own farandula - the rumberos who call it home - and it’s nice to see different faces. In Niña relajate - which is about a jealous girlfriend - Emilio improvised a guia to his GF, on keyboards, which had everyone laughing. It was a bit unfair I thought. She bore it as best she could, given she was on a stage and she didn't have a mic and isn't a singer anyway.

At the end Elito said they were playing the Miramar matinee on Tuesday - donde estará Havana D’Primera? Don’t know that I mind. I’m a little over the HdP matinee. It’s too much. I can’t believe I’m saying that.

I left to walk through the legendarily peligroso Cayo Hueso, and singer Dagoberto accompanied me as far as Neptuno. He’d just seen the movie Australia and was raving about its beauty and had some questions about our heritage. Oh, bless. Seriously. We said good night; he went off to find a maquina and I walked up the narrow black street to my house.

Bailando en La Tropical: Part 2

La gente de la Tropical

Calling La Tropical on Sunday to try and find out what time El Charangon would be playing (as Elito is so capricious, and even the musos often don’t know, I wasn’t holding my breath), I got, hilariously, an incredibly well-spoken and talkative chap who spoke as though he knew exactly what was going on and, even more amazingly, turned out to be right. I asked what time the matinee finished (figuring I could work back from there) he said, 9, then gave me a very funny radio-style spruik for the gig, then told me, when I asked, that they would be on at 6 (they came on at 6.30).
I’d done fuck all for the day. Duni had tried to get me to go up to the feria on Carlos III at about 2, but the thought of cheap fruit and vegies wasn’t enough to get my out of my PJs and I ended up watching a Latifah rom-com on TV and fucking around the flat.
Me and my friend Yarima and her friend who has one of those Cuban names it’s impossible to grasp the first time you hear it, left a bit after 5.30 and got up there just before 6. There was the generic timba of some nameless band blaring out and a queue to get in, even though the cover was the same as it had been for Pupy the previous night. Guess it’s just easier for everyone to get home at 9, instead of 2.
The first band finished as we made our way through the throng downstairs, where we tried to get inside the hallowed gates of the backstage area. I didn’t see Aisar - no doubt living large on the upper balcony. I did see their productor (I don’t really know what means - it’s not producer in the sense that we use it), Candido, who is a lovely guy and always looks after me. He said he would get us in after he went to fetch Elito from - guess where? - the balcony. After he left, drops of rain started falling and the crowd started to scatter. Not that there is much cover on offer at La Tropical. I just stayed where I was. It passed. For the moment. Candido came back, Elito-less - guess the rain put him off - and ushered us in.
A bit after 6.30, the band came on, mercifully - the reggaeton was doing my head in - without Elito, starting with 1999.
Dagoberto was fantastic, but then, he always is. I don’t give him enough props. His voice has a beautiful rough timbre live, and he uses it really well and knows how to work the audience. He has a nice natural presence on stage as well. There is something going on with him and Emilio, but I don’t know what it is - there is always a little onstage sparring between them. Seems good natured enough, but who knows. Emilio hasn’t been there long, but it looks like he throws his weight around a bit. I guess you can get away with that when you’re the boss’s son-in-law.
De que estamos hablando was next - this was supposed to be the launch of the eponymous disc apparently, even though it seems to have been around for six months or so. At the moment in the song when Elito should have arrived (they usually play it first) the band was left hanging, with the singers looking around. He finally turned up without his trademark cordless mic, and started yelling his catchphrases. The crowd went wild for some reason. The band has four great singers and he doesn’t really add anything. The work of the directors here is sometimes a bit of a mystery, on stage, at least. Aisar is the one who pretty much directs the arrangements en vivo. (And on record, I believe, as well.)
The set, regrettably, didn’t include Ya se cantar or Open the door, which meant it was all high energy (with the exception of 1999): Dale agua al domino, Niña relajate, Mi salsa tiene, a potpurrit of oldies, Madrugada, Jonron, Chichi and Agua pa Yemaya, which is the closer now, as I guess it has become something of a hit.

The negrita spies her true love

A 50- or even 60something negrita in a bright pink top and white flip skirt clambered on to the stage to dance - specifically with Emilio. He managed to get her to get back down. Then she got back up again. And again. And again. Security was called. She got back down. She got back up. Emilio was really bothered - well she did keep rubbing herself up against him, and it was clear she wasn’t getting the message that he wasn’t interested (and that his GF was right behind them on keyboards). He pleaded with her to get off the stage and let him sing. She did. Then she got back up again. “Seguridad!” he called, in a mock comic fashion, but by now he was pretty exasperated. They weren’t really that interested in helping him. But they finally came and got her again and helped her down - she started hitting them. Then, uh-oh, she was up again. Emilio had been talking in her ear, but finally, during Niña relajate, he improvised a guia saying te portaste mal negrita, among other things. I didn’t get it all but judging from the expression on pianist Pachi’s face it was a bit full-on and highly entertaining.
When it was over there was the usual palaver getting transport - a street full of people and no cars to speak of. One bus stopped, but I didn’t really want to be another sardine in that tin, so I led my companions down to Casa de la Musica - it was a bit further than I remembered. It’s the kind of walk that’s fine when you’re on your own but you feel a bit embarrassed about when you have people in tow. Of course Bamboleo had just ended so there were mostly illegal taxis and my friend wanted to go down to 31 so we went down there and waited and talked about the rise in gun crime in Havana until a taxi came. (Took a wee while.)
Ate some rice and pork in my friend’s solar then came back for a brief rest before the midnight sojourn to Miramar for Havana D’Primera. Didn’t get there until about 12.30 which would be a good thing normally but they didn’t start till about 1.30 - I don’t know if Alexander had played the closing night of the jazz fest but whatever the reason it was an hour of excruciating reggaeton and strobe lighting which just about gave me a migraine before the band started. I saw a girl at the bar with glasses. I assumed she was a foreigner and said were you at La Tropical today? She said, yeah. I said, I saw you there. Her friend said: she was the only white person there. And I said, well, and me. And I could have added: “And Suzell (from Revé).” And I’m sure there were a few others, but whatever.
They invited me to their table. Turns out they were Cuban, but there was an Italian boyfriend buying mojitos and Añejo especial. I couldn’t stay out there long though cause of the luces, and retreated back to the bar area. After an eternity in the inferno, HdP hit the stage. Thank fucking christ. Lucky I’m so zen when I’m here - once the shit is over it’s over - gimme the good stuff and let it work its magic. Got some good video of one of the new songs that has the refrain “Ella está con su carrito passaporte”. I hope to do an interview with Alexander soon and talk about the new songs, among other things. (Maybe get the lyrics right.)
Speaking of passports, this is the week I have to go and spend all day in immigration renewing my visa. Fingers crossed I only have to spend one hour there instead of five.
Anyway, back to the gig. Yandy had bass trouble, which was a bore. The electric only worked for part of the night so there was less funk than usual, less slap and less of Alexander yelling “Yaaaandy!!!!”
BTW I think I forgot to say that Rodney Barretto is absent cause he broke is finger, and the doctor has told him he can’t play at all if he wants to recover properly. The current gang is doing a swell job though. The new guy, on bongo/bell and occasional conga looks like a fucking Italian model. Not sorry to have him on stage.
Azucar Negra’s Ailyn was in the audience with Salsa Mayor’s Yasser. They were alone together. Shall we start a rumour? Salsa Mayor are on this Saturday, finally. Alas: HdP are playing La Tropical!! Talk about all my Christmases coming at once. Having said that, if transport is an issue, I don’t know if I can go. Maybe it’s worth braving the lone walk down to 31 at 2am. Sigh.

Bailando en La Tropical: Pt 1

It’s 8.45 on Saturday night and I’m watching Descarga. Paulito is doing a rocking Santana-style cha-cha-cha with David Blanco. I know that sounds pretty horrible, and PFG has done some shit in recent years but he can still sing, man. He just finished miming to a song from the last album, and his band had Pavel, ex Salsa Mayor, among the coristas. Don’t know if Pavel is still doing that. It might have been recorded some time ago. Although El Charangon, who were on Donde si no/23 y M tonight, recorded it last week (on my birthday to be precise).

(God I hate the name of that show: if you call it 23 y M, whoever you’re talking to will go, ah, Donde si no, and vice versa. You can’t get it right.)

I’m just back from Duni’s where he cooked me fish with garlic and cumin. It was great. I wish the restaurants/paladares would do more interesting things. All most of them do is throw the meat in the pan with a shitload of oil and 100 shreds of onion.

Oh fuck; there is a Mariachi band on now. Might be time to turn the sound down. I had forgotten what a service Richard at Mucho Swing does by editing out the shit. I swear one of the hosts is the lunchtime newsreader. Looks weird to see her flouncing around in flimsy leopard skin.

• • •

As I was still feeling fragile on Thursday after Wednesday’s migraine, I kept a low profile. I went to Duni’s and patted the dog. He kept urging me to go to Matanzas to see Pupy play that night. After that recent weather report and my recent ill health I decided against it. Went down to Centro to buy some sneakers - gonna need more than one pair of close-toed shoes if this weather keeps up, although actually it was sunny and warm and and I stripped down to a T-shirt on the way back (woohoo!).

I tried to talk myself into going to the Trabuco matinee at Cafe Cantante. I figured I could have fun if some mates were going but I couldn’t find any takers. I wished I could be like some people who just go and dance with randoms - Trabuco are, after all, still a good dance band, but the thought of the high price this would cost (in patience, beers, and eventually, unwanted physical attention) just made me depressed and go to bed to watch the third, very good instalment of Sherlock.

Because I’d done fuck-all on Thursday I went to a Bamboleo matinee at Galiano on Friday. I know: get the fuck out, right? Who’d have thought. But really, I was bored out of my mind. How cruel that the day two of my favourite bands played I was too sick to go, and once I’d recovered there was nothing that really inspired me. But I hadn’t seen Bamboleo since about I dunno, 2008 or maybe 07. So I thought, wtf.

I didn’t rush down there and I swung by Duni’s place in the way. Saw Uyuni in the street with his two little girls - I love bumping into random musos here. It’s so cool. The Peru tour of both Havana D’Primera and Salsa Mayor is off. Cancelled seriously at the last minute (the day before they were due to fly out). Good for me: HdP are on Sunday night now at Miramar, como siempre. I’d actually like to see SM. They played the first week I was here in Havana but haven’t been sighted since then. Might have to bail Maykel up if I see him at gig and ask him what’s going on.

Anyway, I got to Galiano at 7 - I thought it would be a seething mass but although it was busy it was far from full - less people than for Trabuco’s matinee on Mondays. I suppose when you have two gigs yet to play on the weekend, it’s a tough sell. The DJ was playing some pretty lame PR salsa. Some of that new stuff has a slightly timba bass line, but it can’t cure all the prevailing ills.

The band came on at 7.20, Tanya in a asymmetrical top with one flowing sleeve which I thought was quite brave. Their opener/welcome was Pantolones, which meant we wouldn’t be getting the full version (like Azucar Negra with Estres. Such a waste of a good song.) They have a guy with bleached blonde hair sharing vocals now. He’s basically the full dufus. The other guy has been there for a while. He’s the one who sang that vaguely Epyptian salsaton hit from a couple of years back. I should know both his name and the name of the song, but, well.

Tanya looked bored whenever she wasn’t singing lead, but La que manda sounded great. I do like that song a lot. Her voice was kinda buried in the mix, so it took the Ethel Merman edge off it. They did a song they referred to as an “estreno”, which means it could be anywhere up to six months old. It was a very good funky number.

Apart from that, the songs all had a sameyness - I think Lazaro spends too much time drinking Chivas at various matinees with cronies and not enough time working - and although I was surprised when the curtain came down at the end of just an hour, and Amigo Juan Pescao, I wasn’t disappointed.

The rest of the night was quiet. Duni and I went to a late dinner. Our favourite restaurant on Zanja was shut for some reason, so we went to a not-very-good one at the entrance to Chinatown. It filled a hole.

When I came home, Dollhouse was on tele. ¡Win!

• • •

On Saturday we got to La Tropical to see Pupy at 11 and there was a conspicuous lack of commotion out the front, signalling that it wasn’t very busy inside. Suspicions were confirmed upon entry. Quite a paltry crowd which built to decent, but not to massive - the mezzanine was deserted. I didn’t really understand it - a kick-arse band for 25MN/$5 on a warm night in a great venue. There was a better deal in town somewhere I didn’t know about?

Michel was there. He didn’t get up and sing, which isn’t a surprise considering one of the reasons (among others) he was supposedly kicked out of the band is because he hit Noro after the curtain came down at Galiano one day. I guess I was surprised that he was there at all. Pavel la Figura was there with a couple of chicas. When I saw him at the end he was sitting in the same chair he had been in at the beginning of the night. I asked a friend if she saw him get up. She said, yeah he got up to go to the toilet. Good to see Los Que Son Son had an effect on him.

The band kicked arse, despite the vacuum that is show pony Noro. I think I’ve whinged enough about him for now, so unless there are any new developments, I’ll keep that to a minimum from here-on in. The real star now is Dayan, who I have been championing since I saw him with Charanga Forever in 2006. Azucar Negra miss his presence so I was really pleased to see he wasn’t wasted with Pupy. He’s doing some of the songs Mandy did and mostly making them his own I think. Obviously he has a completely different vibe. (There aren’t many who have Mandy’s vibe.) But Dayan is a package: he can sing and improvise, he can dance and knows his rumba. Yohan who has taken over Pepito/Norberto’s songs fares less well; but they are both hard acts to follow. There must be someone in Havana who can fill their shoes, but I don’t think it’s him. His voice is thin and he totally strains on the higher notes. He’s kinda funny though.

They started with Que cosas tiene la vida, as usual, and to be honest I wish Pupy would retire that. They play it too fast and I don’t think it really works. Obviously Pupy thinks I’m wrong. Heh.

El Noro was next on Ni bombones ni caramelos. Lacklustre vocals; totally kicking performance from the band. We were at the side (seems the only time I can get “backstage” at La Tropical is when there isn’t a melee out front and it isn’t really necessary), which gave a good opportunity to hear/see the percussion really firing together: Bombon on the drumkit, Albertico on timbales and Duni on congas. Very tight and powerful.

La machucadera, sung by Dayan, was seriously awesome. We were all sweating for that one. La Tropical is outdoors but as it’s downstairs (how does that work? did they carve it out of the ground, or is it a natural valley?) there is rarely even a breeze on the bottom level and as the band raised the levels, the clothes started coming off.

During one of Yohan’s songs, there was the most hilarious cintura event. This enormous woman - not just gorda, but tall as well - wanted to get on stage. She couldn’t do it herself and he had trouble helping her up - well, he is only a little thing. Finally she got up, along with two tiny skinny things (for balance, I suppose). She was really going for it, and when he said, p’al piso, instead, she picked him right off the ground. He was totally alarmed and tried to wriggle, not entirely successfully, out of her grip. He managed to get one leg onto the stage, but she held onto the other one. Pretty funny.

There was a new song sung by Noro which was a little underwhelming. There was Un poquito al reves, which has, I reckon, stood up really well, Timba a pogolotti and the closer, Loco con una moto, which must vie with Mi amiga chichi for dumbest Cuban timba song of the year. I’m dubbing it a tie. Jury is still out on which is the more annoying (Chichi may be ahead by a nose, or an irritating rhyme).

It had been more than a year and a half since I’d seen Los que Son Son - and they were mostly thrilling. My favourite Cuban bands live remain Pupy, El Charangon and Havana D’Primera. Not sure about the order.

Chisme, enfermedad y descanso

Sunday arrived and the sun came out. I put a chair onto the balcony and basked in the glow. The fact that I stayed there for the better part of an hour tells you how grim the weather is here - I should have been scurrying in to the shade inside of 10 minutes.

I had reluctantly bailed on Reve at Galiano the night before and thought I’d nurse my flu some more, rather than venture into the urban wilderness of the Los Jardines de la Polar for the Pupy matinee. If I suddenly felt like shite and wanted to go home I didn’t want to be stuck at the arse end of Marianao.

There was a light sprinkle of rain in the afternoon but when Duni and his bro finally dropped around about 8, he said it rained a lot more in Marianao and the set was interrupted three times before they gave up. Probably not a bad one to miss. They’re playing a Wednesday matinee at Miramar, which is a bummer, cause Reve have one the same day at La Palacio, but if it goes late, I might be able to do both.

We watched a dance competition show on TV that Los que Son Son had recorded so long ago Michel was still with the group. Noro sang Ni bombones ni caramelos. That was kinda sad.

I’d organised a ride with Uyuni, who used to play trumpet with Pupy and now plays with HdP, out to Miramar, cause he lives right nearby and has mad wheels. He arrived at 12 on the dot, as arranged, and we drove to Vedado to pick up the pianist Tony and tecladista Harold. Uyuni was playing some CD - I couldn’t for the life of me work out who he said it was, but the singer sounded a lot like Calunga (but wasn’t) and there was a version of Reve’s Open the Door on it. Will get more details.

Things were excruciating at Miramar as you’d expect - horrible lighting and reggaeton for the entire time until the band came on.

They began with Solo para ti, which they always used to begin the set with when I first started seeing them in 2008. The horns were pretty ragged. I wondered if Uyuni had actually ever played it before. Nice song though. Good to hear it again.

Being a night gig, things were much more sedate than the previous Tuesday. But I wasn’t on my own down the front for very long. I’ve only ever been to one gig where Alexander couldn’t get people up dancing (he came off fuming, I recall).

They did a Latin jazz number - maybe in preparation for the Peru trip, I dunno. It was all right. It wasn’t a highlight or anything, but it was OK.

The great thing about going with Uyuni is that he wanted to leave immediately the band had finished. How awesome. The guirero, Yannell (I think), who I have never met before, joined us. He lives round the corner from down near San Lazaro somewhere.

• • •

So it seems Trabuco have two regular weekly gigs here now - Cafe Cantante on Thursday and Galiano on Monday (both matinees). The Cafe is 100MN and Galiano is 50MN (both are $10 for foreigners). That’s quite interesting. I guess as Galiano is bigger, and they always fill El Cafe anyway, they have decided to make the former cheaper. It works: both are full. I like Galiano better. Maybe the sound isn’t always good (it isn’t always good at El Cafe either) but at least if you arrive late you can still amble down the front and get a spot at the side.

I had dilly-dallyed and debated whether to go or not before telling myself oh for fuck’s sake, and getting off the bed and heading off at a brisk pace down San Miguel. It was 7.30pm when I got there and so quiet outside I thought maybe it was suspendido but actually the gig was just mid-stride and everyone was guarachando. Got there just in time for the Mayami slow funk-ish number which is my favourite of the new compositions. All right, there isn’t a whole lot of competition from my perspective, but I do like it a lot. I videoed it, but sometimes my trusty little Fujifilm 40d flakes out on me audiowise, and sadly this was one of those times. Will try again next week. Although it was far from tropical outside, it was the first time Mayami had performed without a scarf and blazer. His left hand was in plaster up to the pinky. The mind boggles.

The set isn’t varying much due, I’m assuming, to Andy’s limited familiarity with the Trabuco set, but this week they did the son 72 hacheros pa un palo with Pepitin on lead. Had a lovely almost classical solo from Manolito in it. He’s been getting down with the flourishes lately, but thankfully there was a lot less Stairway to Heaven in this one than there had been in the others. Looked like Andy was playing this for the first time - he was getting lots of signals from the conguero, Evelio (?).

Musica cubana sounded great, then just as it was taking off - you know that bit, the piano is carouselling, and the singers are rollcalling all the groups and then !dale calabaza al pollo! and it goes into some bloques with the horns, and it’s about to take you even higher and … instead, it all died away into silence, and they started playing La noche instead. Never has a coitus been more cruelly interruptussed. Jesus it was cold.

When Control played, I went for a walk. There was an old guy asleep in a chair on the mezzanine. I thought briefly about joining him. Someone asked me where my boyfriend was. They were referring to Jelien, who they had seen me talking to the previous Thursday at Cafe Cantante. Note: talking. Not kissing; not hugging; not dry-humping. He was only the first person to ask me this question. By the weekend I’ll probably be fucking married to him. (I hope we have a great reception. Someone please let me know how it went.)

• • •

Tuesday me and Masaco had arranged to go to the international artesan fair at PabExpo. Actually we had arranged to go on Monday, but big waves (3-4 metres) were predicted for the bay and she lives in Vedado, she spent the day moving furniture to the upper floor.

I woke with some lame stomach thing to add to my woes so we hung around waiting for that to pass then headed out there about 4. Not really early enough - there are apparently 300 stalls of stuff, mostly from Cuba but also from Colombia, Guatemala, Peru and so on.

There was some ordinary stuff and some really great stuff. Some lovely silver sculptures (in the vicinity of $5000 CUC and an elaborate statue of Caridad made of seashells (also $5000). There was furniture and trickets. A guy from Colombia had really great jewellery - mostly silver, paua and coral but all beautifully designed by him and his wife. Too bad I already have a lot of great stuff. Still bought a piece. And earrings for my mum.

I dropped Masaco off at La Tropical for some Cubadisco announcement (still don’t know what that was) and I went home and crashed on the bed before hauling myself up and back out west to Miramar for the Havana D’Primera matinee.

I’d missed Resumen de los 90 but better late than … I can’t be bothered to finish that cliche.

The place was totally full again. I’d thought (hoped) that without the fuckload of Fins it might be less crowded. In vain, it seems. There was really nowhere to stand but you know it’s HdP and Alexander is so captivating - he gives so much it seems churlish to ignore it.

For the first time this trip they did Cosas de un amigo - one of my very favourites, and I got a shout-out - on my own too, not in a big list. Woohoo! I think he was surprised to see me cause I’d arrived late.

My mate Yarima, who is over here from Sydney, was in the middle in the midst of writhing bodies and waving limbs, having the time of her life.

It was all good. It always with Alexander.

He said something about them playing with Reve on December 25 at La Tropical but then he said, Salon Rojo. When someone in the audience corrected him, he said “Salon Rosado?” and Jannier rolled his eyes, but now I am none the wiser as to the venue. Whatever. My two favourite bands on the same bill. Hope it happens; don’t care where. Fucking awesome Christmas present man.

• • •

Wednesday held the promise of a Pupy matinee at Miramar with a late matinee with Reve at Palacio. I had a Spanish class at 1, but I had woken with a headache and as the day progressed into regrettably grew into a migraine. By 7 - matinee time - I was riven with nausea and pain and lying in a darkened room drugged to the eyeballs and feeling very sorry for myself indeed.

I had the blanket and bedspread doubled and two shawls over me and I was still cold. Got down to 13C in Havana and 1.9C in Matanzas apparently. I might mug a Cuban for a puffy jacket if this keeps up.

The reports were that the Pupy matinee was packed, and Pepito got up and sang. :( Reve was fun as well, I was told. That’s hardly surprising. Sigh.

Cafe rico y Azucar Negra

Wednesday there was nothing of interest on - Galiano has been shut for a part of the week for “duelo nacional” - national morning for the death of Che Guevera and another revolutionary, whose name, in a fit of sacrilege, I forget. (I don’t know why the other venues weren’t affected by this.) Also there were “actividad privada”s on the cartelera and PMM Light - a must-miss. Miramar had Los Cuatro por la tarde (no thanks) and Adalberto for the night. I don’t remember what was on at Cafe Cantante. Monica Mesa was at Delerio Habanero por la noche as usual.
I made an expedition to 70 and 3rd to buy the good coffee - bought four bags - one for Duni and his wife who are coffee freaks - one for me to drink here and the rest to take with me when I go. They had like 200 packs of it, but I haven’t seen it anywhere else and who knows how long it will last.
I realised late in the day I was coming down with something. I dropped the coffee in to Duni, then stopped by Egrem to see the Enrique Alvarez project, but they had already left so I went back home and had a quiet one. Watched some episodes of the British series The Misfits, which is really something. The night got cold - it’s getting down to 15C which may not sound cold to you snow bunnies of the north but when your house has doors and windows with open slats and no heating and it’s on the third floor that’s pretty fucking cold. I went to bed with the bedspread doubled and two shawls over me, and a t-shirt and long sleeved top and I was still cold. I woke up to rain. It was pretty miserable.
Disco Fiesta said nothing about Trabuco at El Cafe but they were on the cartelera and when I sent a message to Chino asking if they were on he called me back and said yes they were. Guess Manolito didn’t want to pay for the promotion and figured that the word would get out. He was right: although they hadn’t played there for a couple of weeks everyone seemed to know about it - locals and foreigners alike. That’s some weird Havana osmosis right there.
I got my shit together and got down to Egrem to find Revé’s Aisar in the control room with Egrem’s sound engineer and Dayan, who plays with Adalberto. A timbalero, Lazarito, was dropping some bloques and fills onto a couple of songs and it was pretty interesting to see them all at work. Lazarito is a skinny white guy who looks about 18, and, as it turns out, is. Dayan was yelling at him from the control room what he wanted, “No, no! Kunk-ku-kunk-kunk!” Or whatever. It was pretty interesting. The project, which will be called El son del Oriente, is in its early stages - all the instruments I could hear - piano, etc, were just guides. I’ll go back next week to see the violins go down.
About 4pm I decided to go looking for Vitamin C - had to go to the farmacia in La Sevilla - I hadn’t known there was a farmacia in the Sevilla, so that’s a good bit of info. Saves me going to the bloody Libre whenever I need something.
I decided to go to the Cafe as late as I could, and ended up standing on the corner of Zanja and Belascoain for a good 20 minutes, which is tolerable when there isn’t a chilling wind blowing up from the Malecon. Cause my house is so cold as well I was just frozen right through to my bones. Had a lovely taxi driver who chatted amiably without trying to hit on me at all. I almost asked for number.
Outside, Jelien was waiting for Lazarito, so he could get him in for free. I had no desire to descend until the band started so I stayed with him outside talking for about 25 minutes until the cold got the better of me and he got fed with waiting. The band started soon after we got down. I took one look and realised I was not in good enough shape for the Cafe crowd. The tiny dance floor was packed. I walked around the outskirts and just didn’t have the energy to grapple with the beast. I said hello to Elito who was there with a posse - Andy is still on drums - then sat in a chair for a couple of songs before I went for a walk and found Martin, who was hanging back as well. His brother was in the pit getting right into it.
Amaray was hitting some bum notes and so was Pepitin. I reckon Mayami is the pick of the singers at the moment, and I’m not just saying that cause he’s the hottest. The bass sounded great, as it has lately - Chino is really doing a bang-up job. Great horns. Couldn’t hear the strings. Lazaro Valdes was drinking rum with Elito and got up for Ya no hace falta, which is Trabuco’s Cafe specialty. They don’t do it anywhere else, and they let the crowd sing it. I scurried down the front for that. Sang my guts out. It was fun. They followed it with Dijiste mentiras. Ditto. There was no time for Locos por mi Habana so they finished with Marcando la distancia. The lights came on and the crowd poured into the narrow exit/entrance singing the coro from Mas que nada which finishes the live version of the song. It was kinda insane. I just thought, if there is a fire right now, we all die.
Home by 9.30 and pancakes with yoghurt and maple syrup for dinner. Mmm, nutritious!

• • •

Friday was my birthday and the day the flu hit me hard. Oh noes! There wasn’t anything pressing on - some yumas were going to Egrem for Rumberos de Cuba, which I wouldn’t have gone to had I been fit. I went and hung out at Duni’s place and patted the dog, and when I told him how old I was he danced and sang “Abuela! ¿Qué pasaría?” Very funny. In return I made fun of his panza, that he collected while on tour in Europe. Oh it’s a beautiful friendship.
I came back and took it easy, really. Been burning through The Misfits. Awesome show. Look it up. Watched Easy A. Awesome movie. Give it a shot.

• • •

Saturday was a matinee larga with Azucar Negra at Palacio de la Rumba and Elito at Galiano. In theory one could probably have caught the Combinacion de la Habana matinee before Azucar Negra as well. I spent the day in bed drinking effervescent vitamin C and trying to recuperate. After last week, I put off going to El Palacio as late as I could - watched the news and whatever else, and finally went down about 9. A Finish girl, Satou, I had met a week ago was there - I had told a few people about the gig but she was the first - and in fact the only foreigner there, although the crowd wasn’t large. Satou said a rumba band had just finished, that they didn’t play for very long (unlike last week) and that they were good. The DJ was playing all salsa. Awesome, dude. Masses of Revé. A group got up and did a rueda, with a woman calling. Don’t think I’ve ever seen that here. Dayan, who used to sing with AN and is now with Pupy was there, sitting at a table with about six attractive women and no guys. Well, why wouldn’t you?
The band came on a little after 9.30. Ailyn was wearing all white. She wasn’t her usual stylish self - her shorts were baggy - where were her skintight skinny jeans? But she was great as usual. She got everyone up for the opening number, the introductory theme and the crowd - less than for Revé but enough of us to have a good time - was keen to get into it. I was surrounded by smiling, dancing people. I love that.
Dayan’s replacement is a prieto with masses of hair. He’s not bad but I missed Dayan’s energy and charisma. He got up for a little bit of Identidad. Limonta seemed to be enjoying it - he was smiling at least - which was a nice change from bandleaders incapable of hiding their displeasure at whatever it is that hasn’t gone their way.
Last time I was here La Palacio had great lights but this time half of them a missing, and they have these brutal white spotlights shining down on the crowd and effectively backlighting the band. Take your sunnies if you’re going to stand down the front.
Some guy asked me to dance and I thought oh all right but a few bars in a woman came over - the caller from the rueda group - and swapped my guy for hers. Whatever, he was a good dancer, so OK.
I was in far from tip-top shape and probably should have been using my energy to fight the bug rather than dance, but aw, you know, I couldn’t help myself.
Martin and his brother, Joaquin, were there with a gang from Centro. Joaquin had been determined to see NG la Banda the previous night at Miramar and before the lurgy hit, I had intended to go with him. The report was as follows: $15 entry; El Tosco wasn’t there; the only Cubans in attendance were jineteras, and half of those left when they realised there were no foreigners left to score with. The band came on at 2.30am and played four songs. The DJ played reggaeton. Sounds like a great night. Totally bummed I missed it.
Martin hadn’t been to La Palacio before and really liked it (you’re not allowed to smoke inside for one, you have to do it in the lobby) and we were commenting on the fact that there were very few foreigners there and he said, well, that will change if you write about it on your stupid blog.