Suficiente Tiempo Para El Son

Since experiencing Sierra Maestra in Harrogate, a little touch of unsettlement has taken to niggling in the back of my mind. Even thinking back to that magical evening, now more than a year ago, fills me with wonderment at how they created breath-taking beauty with artful simplicity. It gave me goosebumps and moved me to think on how I could ever play music that way; and how an ensemble might be formed, outside of Cuba, that could begin to interpret the son and the son montuno in a similar vein.

Neither of them easy questions to answer.

I began the search, drawing from books, interviews with fellow musicians, DVDs, son dance workshops, direct observation... whatever resources I had to draw upon. With Sierra Maestra, probably our modern day's finest interpreters of the son cubano as my chosen ideotype, the challenge was not a trifling one.

One part of the journey involved understanding how smaller ensembles managed to create big sounds to rival that of larger bands. Reading about and listening to Arsenio Rodríguez proved crucial to understanding the evolution of son to son montuno, and his strategies for creating more powerful arrangments for black consumption. The same goes for Trio Matamoros, and specifically how their rhythm guitar performed the function of two instruments. A further source concerned the great Puerto Rican composer Rafael Hernández's arrangements for his Cuarteto Victoria.

Establishing a library of rhythms, and knowing how they were interpreted across instruments in mutual support of each other, in agreement and in contrast, was also part of the journey. Significant was understanding the purpose of these rhythms and their origins - these details were very hard-won. And becoming a proficient enough dancer of the son and the son montuno was pivotal in my comprehension of rhythmic drive, phrasing, and the possible location of propulsive accents; tying physical interpretation to the musical.

But the ace proved to be my previous experience with composing sones (which continue to be a part of Cuatro de Diciembre's repetoire), a bridge of inestimable valuable joining the theoretical to the practical.

Conditions were ripe for embarking on another project.

I'd always fancied the idea of playing Cuban music in a small acoustic ensemble or conjunto setting ever since 4 de Diciembre's infancy in 2002. I also fancied the idea of playing the tres or guitar, going as far as acquiring the instruments and educating myself to play them. But it was two things: the lessening of my commitment to 4de12, going from practices twice a week at my place to once a week elsewhere; and a slow-down in the recording project, with brass arrangements still needing to be fully sorted out and matured before they can be put on tape, that untied the Gordian knot.

I had the knowledgebase, the skillsets, and the time to make a start of it.

I had the interest of highly motivated, exceptionally talented musicians, who happened to be very dear friends.

I now had a plan. And a simple working title of Conjunto Laloma.

Loo Yen Yeo