2nd March 2012 Los Van Van @O2 Academy, Leeds

I wasn't sure about giving Cuba's veteran super-group second chance; so lacklustre was Los Van Van's (LVV) concert at the Roundhouse thee years ago to the week. What swung it in the end was that the concert would be happening in a town nearby (Leeds), and that I'd be catching up with a load of great salsa friends at the very least.

Once ticketmaster's palm had been crossed with silver, I headed on over (electronically) to my favourite Latin music shoppe and placed an order for the latest Los Van Van album they would be tour-promoting. 'La Maquinaría' turned up last month, and a good portion of four weeks was spent pitching a critical ear to the studio album. It was a bit of a slow burner. My initial impression was that a majority of the cuts followed a predictable formula established by songs from preceding albums 'Llegó...' and 'Chapeando'. It felt as if some of LVV's creative brightness had dimmed with the exit of César Pedroso. Nonetheless, there were two numbers which stood out straight away: 'La Bobería' and Yeni Valdés-fronted 'Que Tiene Ese Guajiro Que'. Although I've since come to appreciate 'La Maquinaría', I can't say that it's captured my imagination as much as 'Llegó...' did before.

In the run-up to the concert last Friday, Los Van Van suffered lineup upheavals which seems to have plagued them since Juan Formell took a back seat. The band's press release of 11th October 2011 announced the departure of Mayito Rivera, the only singer who displayed real passion that fateful night at the Roundhouse. I was dismayed, but cautiously welcomed the news that his space on stage had been given to Armando 'Mandy' Cantero, formerly of César Pedroso's ensemble. Then there was the tragic loss of their conguero Manuel Labarrera less than two weeks before tour, which triggered the departure of their bassist Pavel Molina not long after.

Gulp!

So I walked into the O2 Academy in Leeds not expecting too much - a combination of previous experience, and knowing the backdrop to the tour. The venue has a capacity of about fifteen hundred, of which more than a thousand tickets had already been sold; no mean feat, and largely due to DJ Lubi Jovanovich's titanic promotion efforts. This was our old stomping ground, where Lubi used to have his Thursday night Casa Latina residency  in the basement called the Underground. Above it would sit the Town and Country club which has played host to Eddie Palmieri and Issac Delgado (with a fledgling salsero me in the audience).

Now it's whitewashed, blue-LED lit, dark-floored, and modern.

Oops!?! Los Van Van still setting up after doors open

Much to my surprise, some of Van Van were on stage. That indicated to me that they'd probably only recently arrived, and that there might not have been a full sound-check. Okay... things were going to be interesting. A quick glimpse at the Front-of-House (FoH) desk told me that it was a Soundcraft Vi6, about forty-thousand pounds of digital mixer; the engineer had better know what he was doing to be let near the thing! I put all of that to one side and indulged in antics and banter, surprised to see the likes of Chunky - an  instructor with Red Hat Salsa - from as far afield as Reading. When all the introductions were said and done, the only thing left was the moment of truth.

The band opened up and the singers strode onstage.

I let out a breath that I hadn't realised I'd been holding. Los Van Van were hungry and they sounded like they'd appreciated the lengths to which some of their fans had travelled (I met a young lady who'd flown from Ireland). Their delivery was consummately polished and nimble, with the ensemble's powerhouses clearly being Samuel Formell (on drumset), Yeni Valdés and Mandy Cantero. The years have been kind to Yeni's stagecraft; she now exerts a commanding presence where she only showed glimpses of before. Mandy was the real surprise of the night, giving it as good as Mayito ever did; perhaps moving away from Pupy's group to LVV will prove to be the liberating challenge that his performance career needed.

The band didn't reprise any of their previous material. Neither did they play 'La Bobería'. I understand, because there had been only a few months for Mandy, less for some others, to learn the songs they had to sort their priorities out. And knowing U..K salseros' preferences for up-tempo music, it was also natural to expect them to shy away from the slower numbers. Although Los Van Van's performance lacked the rage of Maikel Blanco's (I think that their gig in London the night before took a lot out of them), they convinced me enough to be a concert-goer for them again.

But not at the O2 Academy.

Sadly, FoH sound failed to match the calibre of the band. The order of instruments which the sound engineer chose to tackle: brass, vocals, bass, keyboards told me he was unfamiliar with Latin music; and the opportunity to create a strong acoustic space for one of LVV's key assets, the lead vocals, (and well within the Vi6's capabilities) was overlooked. Aggressive high-frequency distortion from a damaged driver on the top-left of stage remained untamed, as did the low-frequency boom left to chase itself in the auditorium's corners.

An enthusiast of live Latin music based here learns to look past deficiencies in Public Address provision (due to their lack of familiarity with the genre) and peer into the heart of a performance. I, probably more than any of the 1000 present, was grateful to find Los Van Van with a properly thumping one.

Loo Yeo

3rd July 2009 La Exelencia @Rumberos, The Wardrobe, Leeds

If any concert laboured under the weight of expectation, it would be this one. As I descended the red-walled stairs into the cauldron that is The Wardrobe, I spied many of the region's great and good: Mary and Tony of Salsa York, Lossie and Gareth of Encuentro Latino, Amos de Roover of Salsa Sin Limite, Dave Fenton of Mambo Collective, and organisers Fabio Bahia and Lubi of course; gathered together for what we anticipated to be the gig of the year. The floor was just getting packed under the exhortations of Simon Taylor, the Midlands-based Flip and Bounce salsa instructor, as his lesson got underway - an apt 'New York' style prelude to the main event.

Hanging with Tony Piper

I'd been aware of La Excelencia's progress, notified mainly by Facebook's photo updates, and knew that this was the last date since their arrival via the Channel Tunnel: a hectic schedule which took in Brighton, London and Glastonbury. A small part of me felt trepidation on the band's part; 'Mi Tumbao Social' had raised the bar so high, and I wondered how much there was in the tank after a grueling world tour. And there was the added consideration that artists can be good musicians, performers or entertainers, but very few are blessed with the complete package.

I busied myself with dalliances and a spot of not-very-clean dancing. Before I knew it La Excelencia had sprung out of the woodwork, giving us the CD's opening track 'Salsa dura' full-bore!

My initial impressions were good, but not sensational. There was a mismatch between what I saw on stage and what I heard: La Excelencia were playing tighter than a proverbial pit-bull's behind with its proverbials in a vice; and yet the music lacked sparkle - the sound pressure levels were too high for the room; the cymbals lacked 'air' because of a high frequency cut; the piano, central to their album's sound, was imperceptible; and the lead vocals sounded forced as if battling fatigue. I tuned out the audio preferring to emphasise the visual spectacle instead, waiting for the sound techs to get their act together.

I was right.

Giving it the beans: La Excelencia's vocal dynamo

At the end of the number the singers wanted their stage monitors on, not just up! That explained the 'forced' quality. As the sound improved, La Excelencia lengthened their stride and ramped up the atmosphere. In my review of their album, I'd failed to mention the herculean lead vocalists Edwin Pérez and Gilberto Velázquez. I couldn't do so here. As the band's front men they are phenomena to be reckoned with live: dominating presences at the front-of-stage who just exude tremendous energy during performance.

Their set-list was a well chosen sequence of dynamics and so deliberately made for dancing, seamlessly marshaled through the hand of music director and pianist Willy Rodriguez. That they executed it all with such seemingly deceptive ease made me lime-green with envy, but more with admiration. During 'Aña pa' mi tambor' the dance floor, normally filled with oblivious-to-live-music salseros, had eyes for naught but the stage - there is NO greater compliment in this country.

When Looey met Willy - finally, in person

The culmination of their startling gig was a climax where the brass section paraded through the audience playing moñas drawing the involvement of the dancers. On stage was a virtuoso dance solo in the urban style, the rumba columbia from New York City. I mentally willed La Excelencia to play every song from the album. But that wasn't going to happen. I would have liked to hear them play a good ole Fania classic like 'Todo tiene su final' or 'Mi gente', just so I could assess that dimension of their prodigious ability. That didn't happen either.

But what I had was enough.

La Excelencia are a band of irrepressible youth, yet they possess the maturity to play with the fuerza (power) and afinque (cohesion) of their paragon forefathers. That makes them rare. That they record and entertain magnificently to boot...

La Excelencia givin' it their salsa thing!

That, makes them unique.

Loo Yeo

Commentary: 13th June 2009 Joe Bataan @Rumberos, The Wardrobe, Leeds

When I found out that Joe Bataan was coming to my neck of the woods, there was nothing for it but to get my grubby mitts on a ticket. New York City's boogaloo 'crossover' period presaging salsa's birth is an epoch in Latin music that I am least familiar with, so I took this as Chance's blessing to witness one of its main protagonists in action.

The timing could not have been better as I needed to plug the gap for the sake of a commission I was undertaking (see later post). That was why I'd decided to do a 'J.K.Rowling' and checked into the rather swanky art deco Queens Hotel in Leeds, dedicating myself to pushing on with the first draft despite the invitations of a lovely day beyond the windows. Come ten 0'clock, I let myself outside and made the light summertime evening walk to the Wardrobe.

The downstairs concert venue is small with an optimistic capacity of four hundred. Marketeers would probably label it 'intimate', I call it a toaster-oven - even at partial saturation, you'd better be prepared to keep hydrating and bring spare changes of clothes. Like all sunken floors with gallery-style seating around it, the main dance area attracts more than its fair share of the attention-seeking with the awkwardness of restricted mobility at its edges. It is nevertheless a place which holds landmark memories after the trauma of Casa Latina's move from the Underground: namely the joys of experiencing Los Jovenes del Barrio, Wayne Gorbea and Ricardo Lemvo's Makina Loca.

It was a surprise to see only a handful of salsa regulars, especially when there weren't other big events going on. This region's scene is dominated by the North American-styles, countless exponents' lips of which have professed a love of salsa and an irresistible compulsion to dance to its music. And yet the only notable teacher of this school present was Dave Fenton, long-time stalwart of live music and founder of the Mambo Collective. Actions speak louder that words.

Or perhaps, to give the benefit of doubt, none of the others are partial to the music of Joe Bataan... a man whose music eclipsed that of Eddie Palmieri and Tito Puente for three years, leading into the rise of New York salsa.


The event's main sponsor, Red Bull Music Academy, promotes collaborative efforts between artists of dissimilar backgrounds. Well, you won't get more dissimilar than this billing... Curiosity had me by the scruff of the neck wondering how on Earth James Pants, 'purveyor par excellence of that unmistakable “fresh beat”: 80’s Soul, Electro Boogie, Early Rap, New Wave, & Post-Punk Disco' was going to mash with JoeB.

Mr.Pants opened with his voice-effects processor backed by Grupo X and I began to see how there might have been some common ground; the Latin boogaloo did after all coincide with the substance-enhanced 'Psychedelic goes Latin' movement. Don Jaime Pantalones did two numbers before inviting Mr.Bataan to take his place behind the keyboards. All credit to James who admitted that the sonic experiment hadn't quite worked out and that he was going to stand to one side and just smack the cowbell for the rest of the evening. Which he duly did. Energetically.

Joe Bataan was hungry and evangelical. He performed like a person whom, having squandered a priceless opportunity and lived to regret it, was unexpectedly handed another one. In truth, I think he had. Joe spoke heartfully in-between songs using the narrative as a glue to hold the set-list together - tonight was his musical biography. During one such interlude he described his teetering on the brink of oblivion, the changes it wrought in his life, and the support he had through the episode from his wife Yvonne (there on vocals) and long-time friend Peter 'Chuckie' Quintero (on timbales). Playing on stage clearly meant more to him than just performing.

Being only superficially familiar with the body of work he presented, it'd be disingenuous for me to attempt a blow-by-blow account - that's why I consider this more as a commentary than a review.

What I got from the concert were priceless insights that I could not have obtained had I chosen to languish at home in my (rather attractive) carpet-slippers:

1. You can do a lot with very little. Many of the songs started with just two or three instruments: perhaps kick drum on beats one and three, hand claps on two and four, and some call-backs (see earlier post); or piano montuno and vocals. And yet the musical groove that came out was highly infectious.
   
2. Boogaloo is a Performance Art. Of the boogaloo recordings from the original NYC era, only a small handful succeeded in capturing my imagination. After experiencing it live, I understand better that it's an art more for stage than it is for disc. When I revisit them, it will be with that in mind; and I'll go as far as imagining the performance in front of me as I listen.
   
3. The Rationale for 'Crossing-over'. The reasoning for Latin music's use of lyrics in English, an attempt to engage with the larger mainstream music consumer market, was much clearer - on evidence of the enthusiastic response from the mainly non-salsero audience.
   
4. Audience Engagement. Joe gave the concert-goer a chance to see what it was like to be on the other side of the fence as a performer; something I have to ponder in my role as vocalist for 4 de Diciembre.
   

The role Grupo X with its line-up of 'British Jazz, Funk and Latin' musicians is also significant food for thought. Having backed Jimmy Bosch the last time he was in the United Kingdom (UK) and now Joe Bataan, the formation of a generic ensemble as 'body' onto which a big name 'head' can be plugged into (like statues in the Roman Empire) is recognisably a response to economic and regulatory pressures. Firstly, it's cheaper generally to bring just one artist plus a couple of key personnel than an entire ensemble from overseas. Secondly, and perhaps more pertinently, approval for entry into the UK by Border Control is not guaranteed hence the risk has to be suitably managed.

As needs must.

Perhaps we are seeing the beginning of something in live music that has existed in salsa's record production for three decades: the drawing from a small pool of musicians, inadvertently giving rise to a geographically identifiable sound. Perhaps it will be through this route that the UK finally achieves its own salsa style. Perhaps...

That's just pure speculation for the moment.

What isn't, on the other hand, is that Joe Bataan is a true ambassador of the boogaloo art.

Loo Yen Yeo

13th October 2007 Leeds Charity Salsa Ball @The Met Hotel (Part 2)

Nicolai called Cuatro de Diciembre to stage at 10pm. And he gave us a hell of an introduction; one which bore all the warmth of his character, and which drew from his years of experience as a public speaker.

We matched his introduction quality for quality with our opening number Nueva Generación - one of our three suite songs written deliberately for high impact; AND we played it tighter than a badger's ass in a tooling vice.

Of the many things I love about 4de12, one of the most remarkable is the sheer energy we can kick out on stage. I could see the atmosphere charging up as we powered our way through the sections, and the salseros responding accordingly. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the DJs: Nicolai and Tony, taking in the performance with grins splitting their faces. Make no mistake, Cuatro de Diciembre may not have been very well known in the salsa gig circle then, but for those who had, our debut in Leeds was very much anticipated.

Salsa Meltdown: The Irrepressible DJ Amos
burning up the floor with the Beautiful Agnieszka

Having opened with all guns blazing, we followed up with more of the same with Nathan taking it up on Hijos de Cam. We alternate singers to give the audience dynamic changes in texture as well as taking the load of the lead vocalists. It was received as enthusiastically, and from then on everything else fell into place. Being dancers ourselves, we plan our sets with energy cycles to give our audience respites as needed whilst still retaining that BIG atmosphere.

Our cover of Bilongo was going to be a potentially sticky bit because I'd heard Tony play it just two songs before we came on. True enough, just after I announced it, Tony heckled good-naturedly (he was really getting into the swing of things) from sidestage. I just smiled and said, "yeah, but we're going to play it even better!" And we did, with our trademark unique middle section that Ana, Jeremy and I developed. The numbers kept rolling, and we ended the set fourty minutes later, exactly as the organisers had planned.

I did interrupt the opening of a song, the last one, to slow down the tempo. I'd seen that the dancers were getting fatigued and felt that we could help accommodate them more. It was a move received very positively by the salseros and the DJs/promoters, the latter of which are always reassured when a band demonstrates that it is aware of the audience's needs and has the confidence to respond accordingly.

During the break while my colleagues were in the dressing room, I got some dancing in and chatted with the DJs to get a feel of how well our performance was being received. Amos of Salsa sin limite paid us a very nice compliment saying that he enjoyed it so much he forgot to dance - normally you can't keep him off a dance floor. Tony of Salsa York used the word "astounding" (in a good way). Great! That meant that only small quantitative changes needed to be made for the second set, which had a playlist at least as strong as the first.

Nicolai and Helena (Sueño Latino) putting on the razzle dazzle to live music

The rest of the band came in to watch the very entertaining dance demonstrations: one of tango argentino and two of salsa. Mike in particular was having a blast - I will always remember the look of delight on his face on the far side-of-stage. Just one short interval later that and we were back on. James, on hearing from Nathan and myself that we both felt as if we over-singing, put our monitor levels up. That helped us a tremendous amount and made the vocal performance a lot easier for the rest of the evening.

There were so many highlights: how all the Decembers were introduced during the first song El Tambor; the looks of astonishment on the faces of the DJs as we burned our way through El hechizo del montuno aka Salsa Gitana a beautiful and immensely challenging song for a band to make its own; and Bembé which turned out to be one of the jewels of the night. Nathan took us to the close on En la sangre and it was exit stage right.

A few minutes (and one tiny glitch) later, Nicolai led the audience in calling us back for an encore. This was where we pulled out all the stops having reserved Tributo al son and El gallo for this occassion. They absolutely cooked.

And then it was all over, finishing on a high.

Ana, Nathan and I managed to get just a couple of dances in before we had to go; we would have loved to stay longer, but given the poorly state of half the band, the prudent thing was to get them safely back home. Every December was and is an absolute trooper. It's easy for me to be completely biased about how well we played, but the real proof is easily seen. Everyone (and I mean everyone) who was there at the Ball not only enjoyed it, but have been telling their friends that they had missed something really great. So much so that salseros from Sheffield were coming up to me the next day, saying that they'd heard how brilliantly 4de12 had entertained.

Cuatro de Diciembre @Leeds Charity Salsa Ball 2007

The organisers, DJs, demonstrators, attendees, and salsa band all played their part. For me, there is no better way of making sure that the Leeds Charity Salsa Ball becomes an established annual event.


Loo Yen Yeo

Post Script:
The Ball raised a total of £1650, split between the Leeds Society for Deaf and Blind People, and the British Heart Foundation. Cuatro de Diciembre's thanks go to Verdant EcoLogic for their generous sponsorship, to make their chance to play at the Ball a reality.

13th October 2007 Leeds Charity Salsa Ball @The Met Hotel (Part 1)

It was the beginning of summer 2007, I was lounging around in Cubana on a Saturday afternoon. Nicolai had just finished his lessons and we were catching up, as we normally do after an age of not having done so simply because our lives had gotten in the way. It was then that he popped the question.

"Would 4 de Diciembre like to play at the inaugural Leeds Charity Salsa Ball?"

"Sure!" I said.

Friends and organisers:
The Cheeky Shanti and the Delectable Jo

Summers being summers, people were away on holiday at overlapping times and we had the pressure of recording timbales then bongó and djembe. What seemed like a goodly amount of time soon started to evaporate; and our preparations for two killer sets started to acquire a fevered pitch. Pressures mounted, and over the ensuing weeks there were more that a few heated discussions between band members. Certainly, we could have made things a lot easier for ourselves by choosing a safer route with the playlist, but that's just not our style - simply because it would feel like we weren't doing our best for the people who make the effort to come to hear us play.

Amazed at the Might of Jan's violin solo. Photograph courtesy of Shanti T, Copyright 2007. All rights reserved

One of the key pressure points was my intention (and I shoulder the burden of blame) to debut Bembé, even though it hadn't been fully arranged yet. My extended absence in Asia and the States and a bad case of traveller's flu afterward put paid to our ability to practice it. But still, I really wanted to do it to make the Charity Ball an extra special occassion, and to thumb my nose at conventional wisdom. True, few people would appreciate it, but the people who mattered would. Everyone in Cuatro de Diciembre put in a Herculean effort and Bembé survived final cull for the playlist with two days to spare. It emerged as one of the sparkling gems of the night, and the gathered were only told of its debut after the last strains had faded away.

We arrived at the Met hotel in plenty of time, and James our excellent sound engineer was already a good way through setting up his PA. The main hall is an acoustic challenge with highly reflective glass surfaces in the form of mirrors behind the stage, freely vibrating glass panes at the far end, corners that trapped bass, and a vaulted ceiling. That caused the soundcheck to take a little longer, but having the excellent AMT microphones on the melodics and the Markbass units for Ana's bass made the job a easier.

Most of the band were labouring under the weight of flu, with Catie and Nathan at their worst. Whilst they were resting after soundcheck, I put my glad rags on and went out to mingle.

A li'l care and attention:
Mike (trombonist) helping Wib (conguero) tart himself up

Having hired bands myself in a previous life, one of my pet peeves were of the ones who just turned up, played, took the money, and scarpered. When salseros attend a live music event, they do so not only to experience the performance. Such is the nature of Latin bands that the people who play the music are more accessible to the dancers than in other genres. In every gig by a top salsa band I'd been to, be it Spanish Harlem, Ricardo Lemvo or Manolito, some members always made a personal appearance either at the bar or dance floor after playing.

I decided to go one better and start promoting before the gig; Nicolai and I both knew how important it was that the first Charity Ball be successful...

(On to Part 2)