Since the 1997 release of “Buena Vista Social Club,” Ry Cooder’s experiment with traditional Cuban music, the players from that now-legendary session have seen their solo careers soar.
Nonagenarian Compay Segundo toured Mexico last year, made an appearance in Miami that drew nothing but raves and is currently in Italy for more than two dozen sold-out shows. Omara Portuondo recorded with Chucho Valdes, among more than a score of projects. In the last year, Ibrahim Ferrer and Ruben Gonzalez double-billed a sold-out U.S. tour. Ditto Barbarito Torres, who came through Chicago three times. Eliades Ochoa, Buena Vista’s guitar player, finally got a U.S. visa and will be at the Old Town School of Folk Music Saturday.
Here is a quick listen to some of the Buena Vista solo spin-offs:
“Calle Salud,” (Nonesuch Records), a marvel of a record, is Compay Segundo’s second solo effort since “Buena Vista Social Club.” And “Calle Salud,” sailing out without the Buena Vista trademark or any of its supporting players, is an amazing testament to 94-year-old Segundo’s lucidity and artistic vigor.
Arranged by Segundo (real name: Francisco Repilado), a veteran of Cuba’s most renowned orchestras, and featuring many of his own compositions, it highlights Cuban popular classics such as “La Enganadora.” Originally a swinging, almost taunting cha-cha-cha, here Segundo winks, turning in a breezy version that’s all gentle flirtation. The work also includes an even more haunting version of “Chan Chan” than Cooder’s effort.
Using clarinets — Segundo’s original instrument and a staple of early Cuban music — the easy, “pure” sound suggests a more classic European influence.
Of particular note is the almost completely instrumental “Se Perdio La Flauta,” a complicated and regal danzon that dissolves into a playful, charanga-esque chorus of “sabroso!” and Segundo’s duet with crooner Charles Aznavour on a Spanish version of the Frenchman’s “Mourier d’aimer.”
An album of beauty and nuance, it’s a charming portrait of what’s timeless and yet still innovative in Cuban music. It is easily the best of the Buena Vista spin-offs (yep, even better than Ferrer’s terrific solo shot).
In “Buena Vista Social Club,” Eliades Ochoa, with his black cowboy hat and Oriente province inflection, provided a sense of roots. While many of the others in that session — Segundo, Ferrer, even the guajiro-oriented Torres — are all musicians whose artistry has been nurtured and showcased in urban settings, Ochoa has never wandered far from the thickets of the island’s eastern area, birthplace to both the son musical form and all of Cuba’s revolutions.
On “Sublime Ilusion” (Higher Octave Records), labeled a solo record but more accurately another collaboration with the excellent Cuarteto Patria, Ochoa doesn’t disappoint. Nearly all of the songs are traditional, some anonymous, others composed by the likes of Segundo, Ernesto Lecuona, Miguel Matamoros and even a tango by the Argentine Carlos Gardel.
Though much has been made of Ochoa’s inclusion of Gardel’s classic “Volver,” there’s nothing new about the tango’s popularity in Cuba, where some historians claim it was actually born in Havana instead of Buenos Aires. Ochoa’s daring is subtler: It’s darn hard to do justice to a tango with a cuarteto format of guitars and mostly hand percussion.
There’s also been hoopla around guest appearances by Los Lobos’ David Hidalgo, Charlie Musselwhite and Cooder and his percussionist son. But what’s interesting is how well Ochoa blends them into the cuarteto: no flashy slide guitar solos, no bursts of Hidalgo’s shimmering play, no tablas for Joachim. (For a listen to a real collaboration check out “Cubafrica,” a French import featuring Ochoa, Cuarteto Patria and Africa’s Manu Dibango.)
On “Sublime Ilusion,” Ochoa’s voice is typically guajiro: very countrified, with just a hint of grit. The guitar playing (no tres here) is crisp and clean, much more complex than the laid-back feel would suggest.
Omara Portuondo is the sole woman on “Buena Vista Social Club,” but that cameo probably has more to do with a need to tone down the testosterone than any neglect she might have experienced, or even her immense talent. Portuondo has never been out of the Cuban limelight since she began her career in the 1940s. Indeed, she hit her peak during the very dark and militant ’60s and ’70s when, ironically enough, a song form called filin — from the English word “feeling” and inspired by the likes of Frank Sinatra and Mel Torme — was all the rage in Havana. Perhaps that’s why she’s titled this her latest album (her first to reach the U.S. market) “Palabras” (Nubenegra), one of the great filin songs of all time. This is nightclub music, torchy and tragic, full of irony and romance. The selection includes such Cuban standards as Ernesto Grenet’s “Drume Negrita,” Bola de Nieve’s “Si Me Pudieras Querer” and a surprising, restrained “Y Tal Vez” by Los Van Van founder Juan Formell. The arrangements highlight piano and guitars and the crisp back-up vocals of Gema y Pavel. “Palabras” is bluesy and relaxed, testimony that 68-year-old Portuondo is still a master of her craft.
No amount of playing seems to diminish the festive feel of Barbarito Torres’ “Havana Cafe,” (Havana Caliente/Atlantic), a collection of Cuban guajiro standards by the Buena Vista Social Club’s laud master and a group of young, mostly unknown players. Here’s an irresistible sampling of son, bolero, guaracha and other forms — all performed on a bed of virtuoso laud, tres and guitar playing. Ferrer and Portuondo, as well as Pio Leyva, show up for cameos, but the real spotlight belongs to Torres’ colorful and masterful laud renderings. The way Torres plays, he can make any song — even something more concretely Afro-Cuban, like the uncredited track “Que Viva Chango” — sound authentically rural. His sister, Conchita Torres, who serves as the group’s lead singer, adds to the feel with a direct, audacious style more typical of the countryside than the city. The group’s other singer, Victor Villas, has the grit and swing of an old blues singer, a kind of younger version of Segundo. The group — recruited by Torres’ wife Sonia Perez from Havana street musicians — plays with a rare and genuine joie de vivre, making this one of the most uplifting and playful releases in any genre all year.
