A Musician's Relationship

"So why is it that playing a different rhythm, even a very closely-related one, causes the performer to listen to different things in the music?"

We began by interpreted the audible tones of the conga's tumbao moderno on the (more easily accessible) shakers. That exercise is designed for participants:

1. to know, actively, where the tones are located in the music; and,
2. to feel where those tones were relative to the embodiment (dance) timeline.

As proficiency increases, the actual tones of the conga in the music become obscured through the phenomenon of 'sonic masking'. This results in two displacements:

• the conga tones become inaudible, replaced by the sound of the shaker, and
• the participant assumes the position of the conguero within the context of the song.

Visualise the stage
In an example salsa ensemble, the (in this case, female) conguero is located at the centre of the stage. Immediately to her left is the timbalero, and beyond the timbalero, the bongosero, To her right is pianista, behind-right is the bajista. The metalles are arranged in an arc, curving from the bongosero's left, on the far side of the stage, to behind the timbalero. The singers playing percusión menor are in front.

The role and relationships of the conguero
When Arsenio Rodriguez brought his brother Israel a.k.a. 'Kike' into his ensemble to play tumbadoras (congas), he discovered that incorporating the drums increased rhythmic stability. When performing as conguero, I lock with the piano player's montuno and the bass player's tumbao, facilitated by clave phrasing. Then I listen to the vocalist. The congas provide the bedrock of percussion on which the timbales ride.

The role and relationships of percusión menor in boogaloo
My personal experience of the New York boogaloo (see Commentary: 13th June 2009 Joe Bataan @Rumberos, The Wardrobe, Leeds) changed the way I listened to the genre. Joe Bataan distilled the genre down to its very essence: just vocals and piano, punctuated by backbeat accents from hand-claps or tambourine. When I'm on hand percussion expressing the backbeats (clapping hands, shaking tambourines) I put the piano and vocals foremost; letting my backbeats frame the bubbly piano, and provide percussive counterpoint to the vocal interjections. Bandleader Pucho Brown famously described New York's boogaloo as "cha-cha (sic) with a backbeat", a sentiment I agree with. If the ensemble is interpreting boogaloo in this way, then I let the accents perch on top of the conga's tumbao, and lock with the chachachá bell on the timbales.

Rationale
Salsa musicianship, and some approaches to its dancing, adheres the African aesthetic of 'individuals performing in unity' (Farris Thompson, 2011). To achieve this, co-operative musicianship is exercised where each musician plays his/her part of the story, co-ordinated through the clave-pulse relationship, which all combine to present the whole. Thus:

Each musician knows his/her part relative to everyone else's.

A solares participant displacing the conguero would listen to the instruments to which the conga has a keen relationship. If that same participant where then to change rhythms and displace the percusión menor boogaloo performer, then the instruments listen to and related with will also change.

State of play
Two of the participants has had prior experience in ensemble playing, neither of them in the context of Afro-Caribbean music. I expect that they will build relationships with the most obvious instruments first: those commonly present and with the most similar roles in European music. Indeed, I'm targeting those first, as 'easy wins'.

We might be high up the heirarchy in Bloom's taxonomy, but that's just with two simple rhythms. The sobering thought is how to get there with the complex members of the various timelines.

Baby steps.
Loo

Reference
Farris Thompson, Robert (2011). Aesthetic of the Cool: Afro-Atlantic Art and Music. USA : Periscope Publishing.

"Guide To Karaoke Confidence" by Jeffrey Allen

Illustration Copyright © 1995 Warner Bro. Publications Inc. All Rights Acknowledged.

Aspiring performers, discount this publication on account of its title at your peril!

If the mark of true understanding is the ability to distill that which is complex into a work of simplicity and brevity, then Jeffrey Allen is a Master of Performance and Singing. This is the quickest route to getting ready for vocal performance bar none.

The blurb describes it as: "A quick, simple and fun course for everyone who loves to sing. Designed for all vocal ranges and styles, Jeffrey Allen's Guide to Karaoke Confidence offers numerous, invaluable performance and singing tips to insure that each and every moment in the Karaoke spotlight is successful."

I can attest that the schedule of development is indeed brief, easy to follow, and has plenty of lively learning points. I make it no secret that I'm a fan of Jeffrey Allen's work and found the second part: "The Vocal Makeover: Tricks, Tips, And Secrets Of Singing" highly familiar, drawn as it is from his comprehensive "Secrets of Singing".

But for those who can already sing, and to some extent those who can play, it's "Part 1: Secrets of Living Comfortably Onstage" which promises the elevation from musician to performer - it details succinctly the mental preparation required to take to stage. Even then, a good deal of effort needs to be invested on your part; those hoping for the lurking of magic words in Mr.Allen's handbook, the mere reading of which to transform them instantly into a mesmerist on stage, are going to be sorely disappointed.

Take, for example, the critical self-reflection he demands of the singer in order to breathe life to performance:

• "Why did I choose to sing this song...?"; and
  
• "To whom am I singing this to?";
  

are but a pair of sample questions. Applying them all in turn to each song, yields insight into and artistic confidence in, every work.

Pound for pound, word for word, the compact "Guide to Karaoke Confidence" provides the best value in self-schooling for the Performing Arts.

Loo Yeo

29th May 2010 Calle Real @Relentless Garage, London.

The Venue
I knew I had to make this one. By hook or by crook.

The soreness of disappointment, after last summer's foiled attempt to import the Cuban-funk-playing Swedes to these isles, still chafed; and the salve took a wee bit of juggling to arrange. I emerged from the depths Highbury tube station into the drizzly afternoon sunshine, and a touch of trepidation weighted my heart as I took in the exterior of the Relentless Garage across the road.

What I'd thought was a curious name ("Relentless") for a converted venue (garage) in the tradition of Wetherby's Engine Shed or Camden's Roundhouse, turned out not to be so. A suspicion that it was indeed a venue where garage-the-genre was played-without-quarter left me disquieted. It continued to do so as I was metal-detector-swept by a politely looming doorman some hours later. I'd left my Letter-opener of Ultimate Despair behind at the hotel, and only a concerted grope would have discovered the Chopsticks of Ineffable Annihilation secreted about my person.

He didn't go there.

Slinking up the stairs with a brief detour via the cloakroom, the Misgivings fell silent with the closing of the double doors behind me. The main hall was a cosy affair measuring 15 by 20 metres with the stage to my left, permanent front-of-house booth to my front-right, and a disabled-access ramp and steps on the immediate-right leading to a 20 by 6 metre elevated tier, with the bar at the end along the far width of the room. More importantly the wooden floor bore a healthy sheen of regular cleaning and polishing, and there was not a whisper of staleness in the air. The venue was looked after by some serious people.

Karen, also from Sheffield, was the first person I saw. I invited her to dance.

The speed of the floor was slightly on the slow side, but would not pose a problem for the 'Cuban-style' clientele Calle Real would attract. The Relentless Garage was a countess of a venue, but not quite the princess. What Karen told me next confirmed my thoughts; the doors had been late to open because, apart from a delay to their flight, the band had had a longer-than-anticipated sound check. I could tell this from the sogginess of the music, and it couldn't have been due to the dimensions, size nor surfaces of the dance hall.

As my amiable bar-man decanted my poison, he volunteered that Garage and Rock were indeed the mainstays of the place. That would explain the boomy bass and the smeared dull mid-range; if the installed Public Address (PA) system, and especially a graphic equaliser, had been optimised for these genres. The sound-man would have asked for access to the PA cabinet (hunting for the EQ bypass switch), and the duty manager would not have confessed to having the keys (for fear of irrevocable tinkering).

I got my dances in early, anticipating a packed floor, and possibly to enjoy the coming performance in singular spectatorship. Although the sound was better at front, I was concerned that the signal from the DJ decks was being fed through the mixing desk, which would not bode well for Calle Real. But then I'm also very familiar with their PA requirements, having used them as a starting-point for 4 de Diciembre's own, so I knew this was unlikely. More probably the gains on the DJ mixing desk had remained undisturbed, which to me was a shame - irrespective of song selection, each piece passed with heavily unrealised potential.

The Concert
Soon came the Witching hour. I picked my prize spot at the top of the stair and waited...

Calle Real, baby!

The Meaning of Bliss:
Calle Real and a really good audience

It was fulfilling finally to put faces, fingers and hands, bodies and movements to the sounds of 'Con Fuerza' - one of my most frequently revisited timba albums.

Did Calle Real sound better live?

In many ways they did, more so with the numbers from their second release 'Me Lo Gané'. The studio recordings had had much of the life compressed out of the brass during the mix, but dished out live, the songs sang as if they'd just gotten out of jail - trumpets punched out their accents with brilliance, and trombones rasped as they were born to do. With this era of digital tools, we're led to expect perfect sound, even from stage. There were occassions of imperfect tuning from the brass (usually indicative of issues with onstage monitoring), but that only lent authenticity to the feel of the moment.

In terms of execution, Calle Real were outstanding; every stab physically accented, every passion expressed. They were generous to a fault. The weaknesses of their debut album, primarily the languid attack of the backing vocals, had been well and truly eradicated. This was a performance of confidence and maturity; best portrayed by their rendition of the United Kingdom's favourite, 'Ya lo sé'.

The CD version is lush with poignancy, suspended with the intimacy which the privacy of a studio can bring. Knowing that this effect is unachievable in a club setting, Calle Real reinterpreted it successfully as a rhythmic ballad adding more inspiraciones and melodic brass. That maturity also manifested itself as contrast: when one of their youngest songs 'Me Lo Gané' and one of their oldest songs 'Princesa' were performed in juxtaposition.

Me Lo Gané required a conscious exertion of power for its delivery, leaving less space to the skill of interpretation; while Princesa eased from them with creative musicianship, propelled by a potent yet effortlessly-flowing energy. For any ensemble musician who's worked at the coal-face, the qualitative difference in interpretation between a song one decade old and another many years younger is abundantly clear.

Fervour after the encore, Con Fuerza

The Calle Real experience left a number of lasting impressions:

• Surprise. Karl, Michel and Patricio's backing vocals sounded higher than I remembered; that wasn't obvious from the CDs.
• Respect (in the Jamaican sense), complete and utmost, for Gunnar's virtuoso performance as a timba pianist.
• Regret. That the sound of flair player Rickard Valdés' conga failed to come across properly in the mix.
• Amusement at the personality of Andreas' bass - 70s-inspired funk complete with dark glasses.
• Pensiveness. That perhaps Harry's songo on the drums could, occassionally, have been given the regular driving framework of the bongó bell rhythm to tug against.
  
• Pride in Cuban-style dancers. Nearly all of the audience stayed face-forward to the stage throughout the eighty-minute concert; the true sign of live music appreciation.
• Satisfied. That 'Con Fuerza' got to see the light of day. As an encore.
  

Calle Real's melodies mark them as European despite the Cuban authenticity of their rhythms. Another property which reveals their hand is how the attack of their instruments is distributed; a sonic fingerprint if you will, which gives the band their characteristic laid-back feel even at higher tempi. That and their uniqueness leads me to suggest that if it ever occurred to anyone on the U.S. West Coast to play timba, they'd use Calle Real as a role model.

End Note
Performance dynamism is clearly one of the band's greatest assets. For Heaven's sake, bottle it! I'd like to see every one of their gigs for the next year digitally recorded off the front-of-house desk. Heck, I'd loan them one of my HD24s. Then cherry-pick the best performances, edit them, mix them, send them to Bob Katz for mastering, and release a 'Live' album.

What would it take to make that happen, I wonder?

Loo Yeo

16th February 2010 Pasión De Buena Vista@The Lyceum, Sheffield

Although Sheffield ranks as one of England's largest cities, its status on the Latin music circuit is best described as 'provincial', averaging just one concert by the Buena Vista Social Club franchise and one Cuban show at its theatres per year; so the appearance of any such performance company is hugely anticipated, and normally sold out well beforehand.

News of the 'Pasión De Buena Vista' show rattled along the local salsa grapevine a good three months before the performance date, but work had me wriggling on tenterhooks until the weekend preceding. Fortunately there are certain advantages to attending shows unaccompanied; the best of which is the likelihood of securing good "late return" single seats, and my slightly-worse-for-wear ticketer helped find a great one in Circle.

I knew little about this troupe when I parked myself in the plush chair, so I made a start by ogling the stage layout. It looked promising: keyboard, bass, a trapset-timbale combination, a conga-bongó combination, a microphone setup for a four or five piece brass section, a tres on a stand, and a full trinity of batá drums; plus there was ample stage-front for at least four dancing couples to do their rumba thing. Then Meinl logos on the congas caught my eye and my hunch was confirmed by the souvenir programme: this was a German production.

The glossy booklet was filled with attractive earthy-toned action shots of dancers and singers captured mid-performance. It exuded dynamism. Delving deeper, the supporting texts of introduction and biography of the star vocalists came across as stilted and typographically challenged. This was an uncommitted effort through a patent lack of attention.

I sincerely hoped this wasn't an indicator.

A solo female dancer opened the show, moving to the sounds of the batá. Dressed in red and black and clutching a crooked stick, she was clearly the representation of Eleguá, Orisha of pathways, who is traditionally invoked at the beginning of all Afro-Cuban occassions. While her circular shrugging movements were correct, the stillness of her spinal axis showed me that sacred dance was not her bag - this was a rendition purely for the commercial world.

Eleguá's invocation gave way to the introduction of four other figures dressed in green and black; gold and blue; red and white; and blue and white, representing Ogún, Ochún, Changó, and Yemayá respectively. They symbolically enacted a pataki [Yoruban fable] capturing their sometimes tumultuous relationships with each other, although it was not clear which fable (or combinations of fable), and which version was being told.

Advertently or not, this act set out the entire premise of the show: the conjuration of a 'Fantastical Cuba' as escape, and one that host Knut Gambusch's stilted narrative tried to reinforce again and again. Otherwise, there was no overarching structure of storytelling that I could discern.

The two setlists punctuated by an intermission comprised of some very Latin standards: 'Bésame mucho', 'Quizás, quizás, quizás', Benny Moré's homage to his birthplace 'Santa Isabel de las Lajas'; 'El Manisero'; 'Píntate los labios María' complete with a Michael Jackson dance tribute; and 'Changó 'ta vení' interpreted as a pilón.

Modern classics also had their place, such as Francisco Repilado's 'Chan Chan'; Celia Cruz's popular interpretation 'La vida es un carnaval' where the dancers were appropriately dressed in the blue and white of her patron Orisha; and Gloria Estefan's 'Mi Tierra'. The latter struck me as unusual; that a Resident Cuban band would choose to play an Exilic Cuban composition.

There was one little treat - an original number by tresero/trombonist Yuilie Velazquez-Guerra, arranged as a songo con marcha. Although bringing in the kick drum in on the downbeats bogged down the rhythm somewhat (I suspect it was meant to imply the bomba) the highly compact show band 'La Ideal' negotiated complex timba, and the other genres demanded of it, with flair. You'd have to go a long way to find a more professional support band; you noticed them only when they wanted to be noticed, because La Ideal knew what the true star of the show was.

The Singing.

I once thought that Ibrahim Ferrer was one of a kind. But that night I was entranced with the voice of someone cut from the same cloth - Inocente "Pachín" Fernandez-Jímenez. His phrasing, his attack, and his vocal texture was so similar; and yet so authentically individual, that they could have been brothers. I gave silent thanks for the chance experience. While it's true that Maida Castaneda-Cordovi and Tomás Sanchez-Aguilera have the strong voices we have come to expect in the Cuban vein, Inocente's lyrical qualities place him very much in a league apart.

I could have listen to him 'til dawn.

In that light, the dancing was disappointing; the lackadaisical nature marked it as the afterthought of the production. Although a myriad of genres were attempted, from conga de comparsa to chachachá, their navigation lurched from placidly mid-stream to dangerously rocky. There were three prominent weaknesses:

1. The dancers lacked the stagecraft to draw in and engage their audience.
2. The angular velocities of their movements were constant but too slow. Whilst it gave their execution the characteristic Cuban smoothness, the manoeuvres were never properly finished. The result was a great deal of jarring and rushed transitions as dancers played 'catch-up' with their routine elements.
3. The choreography emphasised quantity and not quality, the dancers always pulled up one iteration short of demonstrating virtuosity.
   

'Just good enough' seemed to be the mantra of Pasión de Buena Vista's production company. It extended to the sound system, where only one pair of 15" low-frequency units was used to move the mass of air in the auditorium (most companies would have specified three pairs); and the sound did suffer for the decision.

Pasión de Buena Vista feels as if it started life as a business plan as opposed to a burning desire to entertain. The mimicry of concept places it as a fast follower to "Lady Salsa" but without the cohesive storytelling nor attention to detail. Both have tried to leverage off World Circuit's Buena Vista Social Club brand, with the German production more blatantly so - the attempted linkages via the artist biographies border on the barefaced and read as tenuous at best.

For me, the frontispiece collage of the souvenir programme is the perfect identity for Pasión de Buena Vista. Some people would either not notice or be ambivalent out its patchwork character. Others might be sensitive to the artistic contrivance and feel the jarring of its elements.

These people would feel the same respectively of the show.

I'd go to it again. For the luscious singing and the music. The dancing can wait.

Loo Yeo

12th Night Extravaganza 2010

The North's first regional shin-dig of 2010 re-adopted the shape of an all-dayer with a pre-event party; a format which had served it well two years ago when the Extravaganza was located at St.John's. This time, it was spread across two sites: the salsa hotbed that Wetherby's Engine Shed has become; and the facilities at the University of York.

I'd hatched plans to inflict myself on the Pipers this whole weekend, arriving with a salve of aged rum and delectable chocolates. Stepping over the threshold, I piled into the bustling activity of pulling the paperwork, equipment, and comestibles together for 'Shedding'; the new popular verb that the region's salseros of the region have come up with. Uncertainty lingered in the air held aloft by the harshest winter in three decades - the same stretch of weather which had affected 4de12's gig in Yarm, had put paid to a vast number of salsa-related events in what would normally be peak lesson season.

As it turns out, consternation need not have creased their brows.

A great number of salsa faithful braved icy conditions to dance at Wetherby, filling the Shed to comfortable capacity. The pre-event party began with chachachá lessons for a change: beginners on the upper floor led by George 'Dr. Salsa' and Vicky; 'improvers' on the main floor with Lee and Nuriye. I was very interested to experience how U.K. mainstream salsa teachers approached the teaching of this dance 'club-style', and so spread my time observing the two classes.

Both of them were conventionally routine-based. The primary emphasis of the beginners class was on the rhythm and then in the context of a short sequence; the timing stresses were ballroom On2 instead of Cuban contratiempo. The content of the intermediates class drew from International Latin (I saw a fan and a natural top) with little tweaks brought in from Cross-body salsa. As the foremost objective of any club teaching is engendering the confidence to use the material within a limited time, it was a mark of success to find chachachá on the floor throughout the evening.

The Engine Shed was everything I remembered it to be when 4 de Diciembre last brought it live salsa: everyone is welcoming and accommodating, the atmosphere suffused with a warm vivid energy. The night sped away, powered of a myriad of fine and sometimes barely-decorous dances. By the time the Pipers and I returned to Base Camp to grab some shut-eye, the clock had ticked perilously close to 05:00.

Four hours later, Tony and I were unloading kit in front of York University's Roger Kirk Centre. This year, having found my feet around the event, I eschewed attending the sessions in favour of being organisationally more useful. What time there was in between, I spent caffeinating and socialising in part as barometer to the success of the event.

Then late in the afternoon, I spotted Alex Wilson and made his acquaintance.

Apart from his band being the main attraction that evening, Alex was at 12th Night with Lee Knights to run an evening session promoting their newly-released endeavour "Find the Rhythm". The pedagogy of Latin rhythm is a matter very close to my heart and we experienced no uncommon ground; I found Alex to be a man hugely talented, yet unassuming and disarmingly engaging.

He invited me to the soundcheck, an opportunity I could not have passed up.

It was highly educative. Here was a performer who knew exactly what he wanted, and the sound crew were all the more appreciative for it: from how he laid out the stage, listened to the individual instruments, the verbal expressions used in describing the sounds he was after, the meticulous attention to detail. With the whole band together, he did as I do; use the soundcheck to hone specific sections of the playlist.

Alex Wilson engaging with Front of House during soundcheck
(Public Address provided by JSS Audio)

I must mention Elpidio Caicedo, the bassist from Buenaventura after whom the number Sabrosón is written. He's an irrepressible ray of Colombian sunshine (seen above in the woolly hat) blessed with a great set of pipes: playing Latin bass and taking lead vocals simultaneously commands respect. Talking drums and music with the rhythm section over dinner made me late for Alex and Lee's class. After leading the band back to their dressing room, I slipped into the main hall to find the class of fifty split into three groups doing vocalisations for tumbao moderno (congas), martillo (bongó), and cáscara (timbales) - Alex dubbed them the 'Human Salsa Orchestra', and it was an attendance that only someone of his musical standing could have inspired.

The objective was to open the band's second set with staggered entries of the three sections and the session closed with a practice of these entries. This was the second time that this workshop had been run by Lee and Alex, and I can't help but think that Alex missed a trick here. Percussion, though crucial, can be pretty dry on its own - it would have been a little bit of magic for the attendees if Alex had jumped on to stage and accompanied the Human Salsa Orchestra on the piano for a few bars, just to tie the class up with a pretty contextual bow.

The last time I saw Alex Wilson and his band was at the Derby Assembly Rooms in March 2007 when his cover of Chaka Khan's "Ain't Nobody" had stormed the salsa floors. This time they were even better: then, the orchestra leaned definitively towards Soul; at the Extravaganza, Soul was artistically counter-balanced with a more profound expression of Latin rhythm. But I'd already expected this after hearing a dynamite güajira influenced snippet at soundcheck.

Among an evening littered with highlights, one of the brightest has to be sharing a dance with Lee to Alex's "Inglaterra" with Elpi hooting at us over the montuno.

It was daybreak by the time the Pipers and I had finished undoing the ravages of the Extravaganza. Sunday afternoon lunch was a leisurely affair, and Tony tells me that the day after 12th Night is always his most relaxed in the year. It was dark by the time I stepped off the train at Sheffield station.

Casting back a year ago, I remembered thinking that Tony was risking an awful lot by considering booking Alex; Palenke were unavailable, and he didn't want to bring 12th Night down the value chain by not booking a band. The Extravaganza has always been a labour of love for the Pipers, and I'm thankful in the end that it still is.

Loo Yen

Retrospection: 4 de Diciembre's Course Through 2009

The critical success of our final concert in 2009 was the culmination, and validation, of painstaking analysis and committed team effort in what has been one of the most turbulent years of 4 de Diciembre's history.

Two singers (Ferret, Nathan) and a timbalero (Dan) moved on at the beginning of the year; while at that same time our brass section, Mike and Thom, expressed a desire for greater involvement in the musical direction of the ensemble. I was very pleased to hear this, relishing a wider range of inputs; and it was the ideal time to do so, as 4de12 would have to re-arrange most of its numbers and repetoire to reflect the strengths to our changed line-up.

We started putting the brass in more central positions: cueing openings and breaks, carrying the main harmonic lines, and setting out more areas for improvisation. But a combination of factors cropped up that affected the ability of both horn players to attend regularly; by the early second quarter of the year, the pursuit had stagnated. Knowing that we couldn't be prepared in time, I had no alternative but to disappoint Tony by informing him that we would not be able to play for him at the Engine Shed.

4 de Diciembre had featured so well in the year before, that a high performance level had become associated with our name - I knew we could only take to the stage again if we could satisfy or exceed that standard; and as prodigiously talented as Catie is, the ensemble needed a strong and regular musician to complement her magical flute.

That person turned out to be Jan Rens.

Being a founding member of 4de12 through its previous incarnation, he agreed to return and play - his violin in partnership with the flute completed us as a charanga sextet. In truth, we'd all never stopped playing together: I'd set up the Conjunto Laloma acoustic quintet in November '08 with Ana (bass, vocals), Catie (flutes), Jan (violin), Jeremy (tres, vocals) and myself (guitar, lead vocals) as a vehicle for the exploration of AfroCuban music from the fundamentals upwards.

My promise to them was that I would develop 4 de Diciembre's music on the same principles that had worked so well with Laloma. It was an easy one to make, as I believe to my core that it is the best way to play; and an easy one to keep, because every musician in the ensemble now felt the same.

The rebirth of 4de12 began over the summer, built on a conceptual foundation laid down by Laloma where each song was played, analysed, disassembled, rearranged, and prepared for public performance. It was painstaking work. To raise the stakes further, I also selected several covers for case study and as potential candidates for our playlist.

When I returned from the Far East at the end of September, we had a mountain to climb and three months to do it in. Group practices grew to thrice weekly to account for absences due to commitments to other bands (and in my case, teaching). It was my responsibility to plan the schedule to be ready on time; work with Whib in articulating new percussion rhythms; determine breaks, ensemble arrangements and sectional changes; support Catie's genius and Jan's moments of inspiration; and maximise Ana's practice times, as she was personally bearing a mammoth teaching load.

The result?

Cuatro de Diciembre delivered two highly articulate sets as a heavy-hitting sexteto, punching well above its weight. The successful strategies were based on those of Arsenio Rodríguez, whose conjunto commonly took on the Big Bands in 1930s Cuba.

We played not four, but five new covers to counterpoint our vast original material: "Buscándote", "Muévete", "El Reloj de Pastora", "Talento de Televisión", and "Ya Lo Sé"; which were all enthusiastically received. Many musicians will acknowledge how much of a challenge some of these numbers are to interpret well.

Every song featured new arrangements, some to within an inch of their lives.

It's considered poor form for an artist actively to solicit the views of his or her audience after a performance, so I didn't. But what was volunteered from the lips of those who had seen us last year, was that 4de12:

• played engaging songs at comfortable dance pacings;
• had beautiful arrangements; and
• possessed as full a sound yet was all-the-more dynamic.
  

I'm happy, and I'm satisfied.

Happy that that mountain of effort all of us put in, made such a noticeable difference. I'm satisfied that the music direction we're taking, building from AfroCuban first principles, is the right one.

Cuatro de Diciembre in its moment of truth

We're now back at the performance level of where we were a year ago.

Scratch that, we're better - as individual musicians, as ensemble players, with deeper roots. It is a special feeling to be sharing the stage as friends, ready to play at the drop of a hat. Few bands can cope with what many would regard as a seismic change in line-up, but it's a shining testament to the quality of 4 de Diciembre's musical core to come back and play better than before - in less than a single year.

Normally that would be enough, but through my teaching and this remarkable band, I got something more for Christmas... I got the chance to introduce good people to good people: Marco and Lina to Chris, Sue, Tony and Mary.

It's been a year to remember.

looyenyeo

19th December 2009 Cuatro de Diciembre with SalsaYarm@Tower Club Ballroom, Middlesborough

Our first anniversary return to Yarm coincided with one of the most highly disruptive snowstorms to grip the United Kingdom in many a year; and we'd kept our keenest ears pinned to the weatherman's lips in the run-up, wondering if our best preparations might be for nought. Ultimately, the band opted for an early start and was rewarded with a straight run to the tower ballroom, but by the time we alighted in the late twilight, flurries were chasing themselves over shoe-deep snow at the foot of the old church tower.

Things were looking a wee bit on the uphill side... especially more so after we'd set up onstage and the sound reinforcement crew were still nowhere to be found.

Whib, our congüero-bongocero.
30 seconds later, he was making snoooozy-sounds

Decemberists busied themselves reading, chewing, or snoozing (in Whib's case); and I reacquainted myself with the dancer's delight of a floor, stretching out with a solo effort of a slow foxtrot to the tune of 'oohs' and 'aahs' from one of the windows. Sadly they weren't for my trottings - Ana and Catie had discovered front row seats to an iconic English winter wonderland scene: that of an arterial motorway grinding to a rather spectacular halt.

Emerging from a fall-away slip-pivot, I turned to be greeted by Mary Piper's winning smile; Tony Piper and Chris Hields weren't far behind. As well as a firm friendship, we all shared, in that moment, a strong disapproval for the churlish behaviour of the weather gods. We unwrapped Christmas contingency plans and I briefed the band on the worst case scenario of having to perform semi-acoustically. I'd no sooner finished than the lads from JSS audio drew up, hefting a veritable mountain of P.A.

Muévelo: JSS Audio really shifting

Is that a silver lining I spy before me?

Soundcheck stretched past 'doors open' and the determined revellers who'd bravely made it in were treated to an extra rendition of two of our numbers. That was all it took: a couple of songs on top of individual mic checks, a total of fifteen speedy minutes. Peachy's the word! JSS were as competent and well equipped as BlastPA - the only thing that foxed the two young engineers was the Markbass amp which Ana was playing through.

Sue, Chris, Mary and Tony chose to delay the onset of the party salsa lesson to allow for latecomers; and when they finally did get underway, Chris cheerily warned me off sharking around in his lesson after the antics of last year. Tail between my legs, I skulked off to sulk... that is, until I caught sight of Marco and Lina's arrival (from Red Hat Salsa in Reading, see previous posts). That they made it at all was a touching act of dogged determination, despite being back just up the road for Christmas. SalsaYarm would not countenance my covering their entrance, and had generously them put on the guest list.

Just before we were due to play, Chris asked whether we would shorten our sets to accommodate the dance performance at the interval as things were running late. I happily acceded; we were there to provide a service after all. My fellow Decemberists were inclined to drop our more recent songs, reasoning that our more established numbers would allow us all to perform with more punch. I very much understood their point.

However, I felt that we shouldn't let the chance to blood our new songs slip by because:

• it's only in the furnace of a live performance where one properly understands a song's substance and how it could be performed better;
• all were unusual covers that many people on the floor could relate to; and
  
• the playlist order was set out with very deliberate changes in texture, where the covers and originals combined in a way that complemented each other.
  

The guys decided to trust my judgement.

4 de Diciembre opened with the pacey original "El Gallo" [The Rooster], a crowd pleaser and band favourite - the third song Ana and I ever wrote. Being a sexteto, we all fitted neatly onto the small stage with me alternately being dazzled by a bright green spotlight or inadvertently 'Glasgow-kissing' the Christmas bell decorations on either side. The set flowed every bit as well as anticipated, from "En La Sangre", through "El Reloj de Pastora", "Bilongo", "Tempest", "Buscándote" and ending on a high with the Cuban classic "Pintate Los Labios, María".

Tony slapped a couple of stonking tracks on the decks before inviting the Encuentro Latino student troupe onto the floor in what would be their penultimate display before they disband. They broke On2 to the rat-a-tat percussion of Tito Puente's "Ran Kan Kan", much to the appreciation of the collected party-goers. Two songs after that and I had a face-full of green once again.

Shrek the halls with riffs of salsa

Ana opened up with Bembé's bassline groove, and it was as if we'd never left off. That's the best way to be. "El Hechizo del Montuno", "Hijos de Cam", "Talento de Televisión", and "Nueva Generación" powered by, and all too soon we were closing with "Ya Lo Sé" and "Muévete" - a most magical live pairing. All that remained was a belated introduction of Catie, Jan, Whib, Ana, and Jeremy to the audience, and heartfelt thanks to all who were there including Sue, Mary, Chris and Tony.

The responses to 4de12's performance were all overwhelmingly positive, unsolicited and corroborated: from friends Lina, Marco and a sundry others; the dancing audience including Richard, himself a leader of a Latin band, who fondly recalled last year's gig; and my promoter-friends who tell me like it is. By the time I'd tripped some fantastic light with the revellers and packed down, the anniversary was over and we bade our season's goodbyes.

Sitting on the front passenger seat and watching the dark snowscape pass us by, I thought on all that had transpired in the year since 4de12's debut at SalsaYarm.

(On to 'Retrospection: 4 de Diciembre's Course Through 2009'.)

Loo Yen Yeo

4th December 2009 Mambo con Rumbo @Slug and Lettuce, York

Once a month, on its opening Friday, the great and the good of York's salsa community congregate in the farthest corner of Swinegate to indulge in an unseemly display of dance solidarity. Gyrating together in a travesty of good-two-shoes libertarian behaviour at the Slug and Lettuce watering hole (not to be confused with the identically named one next to the river, to which the unknowing are cunningly misdirected), 'On1ers' from Mary and Tony's SalsaYork and 'breaking On2ers' from Lossie and Gareth's Encuentro Latino do nothing at all to reinforce the convention of market segmentation gripping the commercial salsa world.

This author turned up to cast disapproval at such brazen proceedings...

Actually, I turned up because I'd been hearing from Tony about how this night was going great guns and to support the North's latest live music debutantes - Mambo con Rumbo (yes, it's rumbo, not rumba), featuring people whom I'd become increasingly acquainted with via Twelfth night and the Engine Shed, reinforced by a strengthening social network both corporeal and electronic. It was also the 4th of December, and such alignment of the planets could only be ignored at one's peril.

"It's all very much last-minute as usual" I thought, as I clutched my overnight bag on the train to York post-work. Dinner was an intimate affair with Mary, Tony and myself at a busy and cosy brasserie in the middle of the historic city a stone's throw from the Minster; an ideal way to update each other on our lifestyles' circumstances. Come nine o'clock, we forsook our tables for the Slug and Lettuce to unload the gear and set up. Steve Carter (timbalero, vocalist), Gareth Roberts (conguero), Phil Moores (bass, songwriter), and Adam Parnell (flautist, saxophonist, music director) were already on-site preparing for soundcheck; and after the jovialities, I removed myself from underfoot to evaluate the venue.

The Slug and Lettuce is a chain of modern pub-eateries whose physical premises are pleasantly less 'busy' in decor and arrangement than their web-image suggests. Their menu is somewhere in-between as regards coherence, but their bar offerings are accurately targeted. Staff morale was solid, and the supervising management was good-natured and accommodating - it was clear that both parties, the promoters (Gareth, Lossie, Mary and Tony) and venue management, had put effort into cultivating a good business relationship. It bodes well for an enduring salsa night.

With the fading of the last meal sitting, a cord barrier was put in place to partition off the dance area. The polished wooden flooring throughout is a nice surface to move on, although the split-level nature of it, in effect, divided the available space into two long-but-slim stretches, aside from the spot occupied by the band. Nevertheless, the Slug could (and did) cheerily accommodate a hundred and sixty grooving souls with a band in place.

The main event was Mambo con Rumbo playing to a friendly crowd; there was plenty of home-town support for its band members, many of whom have been long-term protagonists on the salsa scene. Its single set of about eight numbers, half of which were instrumental, were well chosen to suit dancers. There is an obvious difference (in the U.K.) between the music of bands that comprise dancers and those that do not, and Mambo con Rumbo decidedly belong in the former. The nine person line-up comprised: congas, timbales/vocals, hand percussion/vocals, piano, bass, alto saxophone/flute/vocals, tenor saxophone, trumpet and trombone; and their interpretation style struck me as salsa dura with a hint of romántica arrangement and dose of jazz. It was NYC, despite cover version nods to Venezuela with Llorarás and Colombia with El Preso.

Adam's hand as a music teacher with arrangement experience was evident with the assuredness of the horns; Gareth and Steve's backgrounds as enduring aficionados of percussion presented its flavours strongly; and the instrumental number penned by Phil comfortably withstood scrutiny by the dance floor. Mambo con Rumbo as an ensemble displayed all the ingredients for the realisation of potential: creativity, crucial for developing a unique identity; musicality; organisation and arrangement; direction, in the band's navigation of salsa genres; and most overlooked of all, grounding i.e. persistent contact with the needs of the target audience.

I was the most impressed with Gareth's tumbaos. His phrasing is as authentically Latin as I've ever heard - a benchmark for any aspiring salsa musician; there is a guile and subtlety in his touch which belies a deep-seated, seemingly innate, understanding of the essence of salsa.

Before the gyrating hordes:
Mambo con Rumbo at soundcheck.

As a debut it was more than just commendable, and I shall be keen to follow their progress with interest.

The powerful things about bands are, that a good one can establish an atmosphere like no other artefact. The warm glow of salsa was carried through the rest of the night with Gareth, George a.k.a. 'Doctor Salsa' and Tony as torchbearers on the decks. It was particularly touching to have Tony announce the significance of El Cuatro de Diciembre and dedicate one of our favourite tracks: 'La Candela' by Yerba Buena, that most Cuban of New York bands, to the occasion.

No-one minded that, by then, the clock had struck well into the fifth.

Yeo Loo Yen

6th June 2009 4de Diciembre @Millennium Hall, Sheffield

Millennium Hall is one of my favourite places for a social: there's plenty of room to dance or sit and chat, yet small enough to have a warm atmosphere; the floor though unsprung is an even, predictable surface; acoustics are good; and temperatures are comfortable when the air-conditioning works, which is most of the time. The last time we played in the venue was a touch over three years ago at Nicola's 40th - 4 de Diciembre's debut. This time it was for Mike's retirement party.

With it being local, logistics were much simpler but we still needed to provide our own sound reinforcement. I took it as a good opportunity to road-test equipment that we hadn't used in a while, and to put the information I'd acquired over the last two years as regards setting up a PA to good use. 4 de Diciembre has downsized to a conjunto-ish format and I was keen to see how much of the setup we could manage ourselves.

So with everything packed into respective cars, we drew up to the place at 6:00pm last Saturday. I did have a twinge of trepidation as things didn't run particularly smoothly the last time we used the Soundcraft M12 desk a year ago, but I'd learned a lot since then. One of the advantages of working with supremos like Blast PA is how much you can pick up just by experiencing how they approach their work. Jeremy and I went about it the same way and thanks also to our recording project, we both knew our way around the mixer much better.

It took us forty-five minutes to put everything in place, and less than ten to soundcheck satisfactorily. Then there was the hidden catch... there were to be three other acts with different line-ups, and they expected to use our PA. Note the word 'expected'. Some of our hard work had to be undone and it looked like I was going to have to play the role of sound engineer to boot. I admit I was piqued, but there was no sense in taking issue with it; after all, everyone was there to give Mike a proper send-off from the world of work.

Mike, host of honour, being serenaded by his partner Kate
as part of an a capella duo

As 4de12 were 'headlining' the programme and due on at the end, I spent the first part of the evening juggling mics and gains: there was a guitar and flute duo; an a capella duo featuring Mike's actress partner, Kate; Thom and his rhythm & blues ensemble complete with backing choir; and a melodion and folk guitar couple as well. It felt as if I'd had a backstage pass to a Jools Holland variety show. The DJ took over for a bit. This was my chance to grab a bite; being more than just a little peckish for the past couple of hours, I was in danger of becoming a bear with a sore head - not ideal for the evening's plans.

A couple of mini-quiches later and I was up on stage giving a salsa lesson. Given the time, the occasion and the audience, I adjusted the approach so that it had a bit of everything, a taster: the vocabulary was three basic steps, side-to-side, latin basic, and opening-outs; the bit on ear-training was to vocals and conga; the principles were on walks to salsa rhythm. There was even an impromptu demo with Ana to Celia Cruz's rather pacy 'Quimbara'; and all of it was wrapped up before the clock hit the forty-minute mark.

Teaching with an unruly member of the audience:
Thom's better half, Adele

With me still panting from the demo, the band opened up with 'Bilongo'. 'El tambor' and 'Nueva generación' followed suit, we were joined by Mike's sister and her spouse on flute and electric guitar on 'Oye como va' and 'La bamba'. It was all judged to perfection in terms of length and execution. By a quirk of fate, three of 4 de Diciembre's former violinists: Bea, Jan and Willie were at the party. It was only when I mentioned it that they realised we didn't have a timbalero in our line-up; the new arrangements had worked so well that they hadn't noticed! Instead they were remarking about how rich we sounded. Score one to Catie and the gang.

I think the most genuine compliment came from professional musician in the audience who said, 'you deserve to be playing to a bigger audience' - very flattering indeed. But having been around the block a bit, I find I enjoy the warm intimacy of a smaller occasion as much as the electricity of a jam-packed dance hall.

Oh, and it also happened to be Jan's birthday so I hi-jacked Mike's do for a few seconds and made a deal out of it. The Belgian remained unruffled. Must try harder.

Cuatro de Diciembre in relaxed mode

In the final analysis,

• everything we did: the equipment; the lesson; the set was entirely suited to purpose. That's a good thing because we're due to perform again in a fortnight, sadly under less jovial circumstances (more on that later).
  
• as a sound tech I got lucky: the room didn't give me any problems at all; if it'd been like the one in Darlington... I shudder to think. Our microphones: Neumann KMS105s; Sennheiser Evolution 945s; Shure SM57s and 58s hardly needed any EQ on the desk and were great for feedback rejection. The only awkward one was the AMT Roam on Catie's flute. Two additional pieces of equipment would give us more versatility - a pair of powered speakers like the JBL EON 15 as a minimum spec, and at least one Sennheiser HD421 for the congas.
  
• as an instructor, I need to develop a broader vocabulary of teaching points for the opening-outs if I don't intend on going via the back basic. An engaging way of presenting each basic as highly user-configurable at beginner level would be useful, to act as a bridge the salsa walk.
  
• for the set, 'Oye como va' would be way stronger with more dynamics in its energy; and aesthetically I'd like to beef up the cuerpo of 'La bamba' and add a call-and-response section in the montuno with a theme to reconnect it to its folkloric roots.
  

All in all, it's been a good day. And Mike's send off was a resounding success, made all the more special as it was the first time Mike and Thom's family and friends had had a chance to experience 4de12. Now on to the next gig.

Loo Yen

The End Of Wage Slavery

is the name of the event that Mike, our trombonist, has arranged to commemorate his pending retirement from Linguistic Academia. For that he's booked the Millenium Hall on Ecclesall Road for an evening of joyous, if not raucous celebration on the 6th of June. Friends and family will be in attendance and a good number of very highly proficient musicians will be amongst them.

He asked the band whether we'd play a few numbers, and me personally whether I'd be okay to step on stage and do a little salsa lesson for the party-goers. A delighted "yes" was the answer on both counts. Mike wanted very much for everyone there to hear what Cuatro de Diciembre was about, and also to give his musician friends the chance to jam with the gang.

He and I decided that five numbers would be sufficient and agreed that two of them, the ones at the end of the mini-set, should be the jam numbers. Understandably we had to choose two Latin songs that non-Latins would be familiar with, and picked 'Oye como va' and 'La bamba' out of the shortlist.

There's been a sense of deja vu as we've been preparing these standards; I remember performing both of them nearly a decade ago before leaving them behind as our playlists matured. And I must confess to being internally conflicted at the outset, in returning to songs which I associated with the 'cheesy' end of the salsa band market.

Then I brought myself up short.

Firstly, we were doing this for musically legitimate reasons; foremost of which were audience accessibility and audience participation.

Secondly it was up to us, Cuatro de Diciembre, to interpret any song in an honest and distinguished manner. It fell on my shoulders as Music Director to rise to the challenge of ensuring that 'Oye como va' and 'La bamba' could speak in the manner that we all believed in. As usual there wasn't to be much time.

The descarga format is meant precisely for these purposes, and that formed the basis for the structure of both songs:

• a simple fixed opening consisting of intro, verses and choruses;
• a closing consisting of a break, chorus reprise and outro;
• both sandwiching an extended montuno section of uncomplicated harmonic progression where the guests might descarga [improvise, lit. 'unload'].

However that the guest musicians might not be fluent with the forms and conventions of the descarga, was an important consideration. Two additional moderation structures were put in place:

1. Catie (flute), Mike (trombone) and Thom (trumpet) would perform solos - one at the beginning of the improvised section, one to bring us out at the end, and one to fill in should any guest soloist not be ready in time. There's also the possibility of a percussion and a vocal solo if necessary.
   
2. a short instrumental bridge was put together to be played by all the former three, to act as an interlude between one soloist and the next. I'd like to think of it as the sorbet which refreshes the palate in between courses.
   

For Oye como va, we've drawn inspiration from the startling arrangements of Ernesto Estrada a.k.a. Fruko and the augmented lyrics of the great Celia Cruz's ultimate version.

For La bamba, we've eschewed Richie Valens' electric guitar-based vibe for the easy Mbalax-tinged feel of 'Sabador' by Africando - the latter an interpretation much better suited to 4de12's way of playing.

There has been some element of reassurance needed to be given by me to my colleagues in the band, particularly the founding ones who remembered playing these songs the first time 'round. I had to make sure that there was plenty of opportunity to express the maturity of our musicianship - so that the reprise of these songs would not be interpreted as a retrograde step.

In the end, it was the elegant simplicity of our groove which spoke most clearly of our growth during the intervening years.

And it was the tasteful use of a limited pallete of motifs, as simple highlights to let this groove shine through, that told of my personal development as director of this great band's music.

I learned something new along the way: that La bamba has a folkloric heritage of Mexico that is centuries old; and that I myself had been labouring beneath prejudices that rightfully needed to be overcome.

Loo Yeo

24th April 2009 Conjunto Salsonito @Salsaworks, York (Part 1)

The salsa community in the North of England is a small one, and its grapevine had been rattling for several months with talk about a new band. Actually 'rattling' is a bit on the gentle side, think hooting lemurs.

Conjunto Salsonito is billed as a seven member ensemble featuring two trombones, keyboards, bass, congas, timbales, and Cuban singer Kike Sire on lead vocals and doubling up on bongó. All the musicians have a Latin or jazz background, previously being part of other Northern salsa bands like Grupo X, Descarga, and Raices Cubanas, ably led by trombonist Jonny Enright of the former.

Conjunto Salsonito 'bringing it' to York,
playing New York-style salsa dura

That's the objective line.

I found the undercurrent on the grapevine much more interesting. Scuttlebutt had it that DJ Lubi Jovanovich was the backstage force behind the band, assembling it, designing the playlist, determining the playing tempi, and opening the doors to the various promoters with whom he had the professional relationships. In other words, Lubi was informally credited as the manager and music director behind the band, and that he played a greater role on the music direction than Jonny. Whilst that might have explained a few things, I knew better than to listen to rumour and speculate upon its implications.

Conspiracy theorists dance salsa too.

And neither should it matter. I was simply very, very keen to experience "New York-style salsa dura in the style of (Eddie Palmieri's) La Perfecta". The simple thought of it alone had me drooling in anticipation - surely the scene could be enriched with another top-notch band playing frequently in the area? What's more, I'd already booked the day off since 4 de Diciembre had been tentatively billed to play this slot (4de12 eventually had to decline as changes to our lineup haven't been completely worked through yet). Personally, I felt a mixture of happiness and relief that Salsaworks promoter and friend, Tony Piper, had booked such a strong alternative in the form of Jonny & Co.

The early Spring weather was Britain at its vibrant best. Even the machinations of an inconstant ticket-vending machine, and a shirty teller with a customerserviceectomy failed to dampen my mood as I caught the train to York.

Tony picked me up at the station, his latest salsa acquisition blaring from the stereo, and we soon alighted at his place where he and Mary were preparing the nibbles for the evening. That's the sign of their attention to detail, might I add. The breaking of bread together is fundamental to building a community, and I can't think of many promoters in salsa who go to such lengths. I'd brought gifts as usual, and duly presented Mary with a fine bottle of aged Cuban rum and Tony with a rather delicate bouquet of yellow roses.

Then it was to the business end, Tony and I set off to the Roger Kirk Centre at the University of York where Salsaworks is now in residence. The event's found a new home there after the shock passing of Dave, owner and licensee of the Engine Shed. Sadly, contention of ownership have kept the Shed's doors firmly shut for the last four months (and for the foreseeable future) hence the move to 12th Night Extravaganza's venue.

I helped rig up the lighting with Tony and made a nuisance of myself with the sound reinforcement guys, one of whom was sporting a rather fetching pink "mohican". You know you're gonna get good sounds from a confident individual like that! Then Jonny Enright arrived, and he and I were finally formally introduced. What a nice soul, gentlemanly and understated; he struck me as someone good to work with.

Tony and the 'Neers: a light moment during setup

A short conversation later, Tony and I were off to pick up more stuff, grab dinner, and tart ourselves up for the evening, leaving Tony's now-famous exhortation of "none of that jazzy bollocks" lingering in the air and Jonny's poor ears.

(On to Part Two.)

Loo

7th March 2009 Los Van Van @The Roundhouse, London

When I heard that Los Van Van were coming to play again in the UK, I gritted my teeth in determination. The last time they were here was to promote "Chapeando" two years ago and although I'd already bought tickets, an urgent trip to the Far East conspired to make my first attempt an abortive one.

With a pair of tickets waiting in my hand for their Arrasando tour, the days in the weeks leading up to last Saturday felt like life lived beneath the Sword of Damocles. It was the strangest tincture of anticipation and dread. So as White Lights blazed onto stage searing away the echoing words "Los Van Van...", it felt as though something had finally been put right; an awkward picture-frame straightened.

Los Van Van opening with "Arrasando"

It was clear from the recording that the title track had been written 'to purpose' as an opening number; and true enough, they opened up with "Arrasando" with the vocalists last to take to stage. This incarnation of Los Van Van featured the four lead vocals; two keyboards; three on tromobones, two of whom also doubled up on midi keyboards; bass; violin; flute; güiro plus backing vocals; congas; and bandleader Samuel Formell on trapset plus timbales. It was essentially the same setup as that most artfully captured in the "Aquí el que baila gana - in concierto" DVD recorded at the Karl Marx Theatre sans the stellar guest appearances, and the disappointing omission of Juan Formell. Mind you, he wasn't here last time either and I can only infer that either he's not too keen on these shores, or that these shores aren't too keen on 'im.

They were on for a good two hours and blew through a good deal of their new album, though sadly not the tracks I was more partial to. I recall only their nod to the Manhattan Transfer "Timpop con Birdland", Yenisel's remarkably interpreted "Después de todo", a favourite "Anda, ven y quiéreme", and their single encore "Esto te pone la cabeza mala" as hailing from previous recordings.

I wanted so desperately to be blown away, and was as desperately disappointed. I wanted to believe that this supergroup, whose influence has defined the music of two generations, could do no wrong. I got something worse than wrong, I got lacklustre with snatches of brilliance. And I'm very sad for it.

Some were giving it their all - Samuel on drums was a demon possessed; and Mayito.., the incredible Mayito sang as if the very Heavens demanded it of him. The rest, well, gave only what they were willing to give. In an ironic sense, it was reassuring to me. As a performer I have always given a hundred percent to an audience and would expect no less of myself and my colleagues, getting a trifle mardy when they don't. That some elements of Los Van Van chose not to commit themselves fully, emotionally, showed that it could happen in even the best.

Van Van's incomplete emotional engagement was brought into sharp relief completely by chance through the dancing of one very talented man - Lázaro Lopez of http://www.afrocubano.co.uk/. Invited on stage as a guest, he gifted us all with a startling display of rumba columbia as the physical expression of Mayito's singing and Samuel's drumming. It was a moment of pure, synchronised, perfect intent which will forever be a treasured memory. That he did this in a swish gray suit, intentionally or otherwise, was a semiotic comment which set the sociologist in me chuckling.

That Los Van Van are amongst the hardest-practicing and best-drilled of bands ever to emerge from Cuba, is entirely believable. That events transpired to affect their performance such that many of them had to rely solely upon their consistency, is entirely plausible. After all, it could be that the acoustics of the Roundhouse affected their foldback, definitely it did the atmosphere and perhaps the charge from audience that every performer feeds off.

[I had with me two friends whom between them share more than five decades of professional experience in vibro-acoustics. Both of them independently remarked about the degree of sonic 'smearing' due to uncontrolled reflections in the venue.]

Yenisel told the audience that this is the band's fortieth year in existence; no mean feat in itself, let alone remembering that much of this time was spent at the top. But I sense that the band is wrestling with its state of transition: from the loss of its old guard like César Pedroso, Pedrito Calvo, Jose Luis Quintana; the transfer of leadership from father to son Formell; re-negotiating its identity; and struggling with its relevance to modern musical life.

With the latter, it seems as if the young turks of Maikel Blanco and Tirso Duarte have their finger closer to the pulse. With the former, Los Van Van's new generation are immensely talented, foremost of them Yenisel, Samuel and Mayito. But good though they are, it's difficult to see where the next spark of creative genius, with similar stature to that of Pupy, Changuito, and Juan Formell himself, will come from.

Samuel is now the beating heart of Los Van Van. Whereas his father led the band with his bass from the front, Samuel drives it from behind with his kit at the back. I'm not convinced that it is not without flaw. Juan was able to exercise leadership, engaging directly with the band to maximise emotional involvement, but I don't think Samuel can do that with: his kit as a barrier, limited lines of visual communication with much of the band, and playing everything that he currently plays. Giraldo Piloto of Klimax is the only other bandleader in my recent memory who's in a similar position.

Frankly, as a participant of songo myself, I understand how important the inclusion of the trapset is to timba. But I think now that the pendulum has swung too far and the trap-set under Samuel has fractured a former equilibrium; sidelining the conguero and sending the dedicated timbalero out into the wilderness.

Should Samuel decide to lead more on-stage, he might replace himself on trap-set and move to timbales plus kick-drum in the style of Changuito, and put himself towards the front like Tito Puente did. This would give himself less to play and more cognitive overhead to energise. But that's just conjecture on my part, so just give me a moment to kick myself for my presumptuousness... thud. Yeeouch!

However what I DO know objectively is that there are three main differences between the concert captured on DVD and this one at the Roundhouse: the presence of the old guard, the repertoire, and the sound quality. How the original timba supergroup navigate future waters, I'll study with close interest. Some clues can be had from the above, but it is in the subjective area of how they interact with each other and make good their commitment to their audience that will have me perched towards the edge of my seat.

Los Van Van's encore: "Esto te pone la cabeza mala"

I tell my masterclass attendees and drummers alike that, "artistic endeavour distinguishes itself from the mechanical through its ability, or more its necessity in evoking an emotional response."

Had they all unified in "unbearable purpose" (Eddie Palmieri) as I hear Los Van Van can, there might have burned a terrible joy. Instead I'm feeling a mild shade of blue.

There's nothing I wanted more to do here than to gush over their brilliance. They are, after all, Los Van Van.

Loo Yen Yeo

In The Heart Of Change

Since the beginning of the year Cuatro de Diciembre has been adapting to a line-up change with Dan and Nathan both leaving for different pastures. That change happens isn't at all surprising and I've had than my fair share of her company at 4de12. Instead the best way to be with Change, as I've found over the years, is to embrace her warmly as Opportunity. And this time didn't feel any different.

My cunning plan is to hug the girl until she's blue in the face.

Without another lead singer, I'm taking on all the lead vocals. That might have daunted me a bit had it not been for my marathon training sessions over Christmas. This singer's now more than happy to handle two full sets plus encores; the only thing to keep an eye out for is the hydration level before and during performances. Actually, I'm rather looking forward to interpreting such favourites as "Corazón Fugitivo" and "En La Sangre" which had been necessarily relinquished to Nathan. The immediate impact on how the band plays is not massive; it's nice to have changes in vocal texture, and we can achieve the same result by re-arranging the set-lists to give a better scope for me to change my resonance bias from song to song.

In contrast, life without timbales is pretty different.

I miss its sonic texture, the thickness it adds to a song, its attack and the drive of its syncopated patterns. Not having it around does make some of our bigger numbers more challenging to play, but Change didn't come to us with doom and gloom packed in her bags; there've been a whole slew of positive surprises:

• we're understanding each other better as musicians now that we can hear one another's musical subtleties (something we couldn't do before during practice due to the sheer volume of the drums);
• there's a greater level of interaction between all of us i.e. a tighter knit between the melodics, rhythm and percussion;
• Decemberists are all learning to play more propulsively - in effect a key role of the timbalero is being redistributed across the entire ensemble;
• it's providing us with the opportunity and incentive to increase our knowledge base; and
• we're exercising our creativity in altering our arrangements to maintain the same feel and drive in our repertoire.
  

I think I'd mentioned it before, that there was a danger of Cuatro de Diciembre reaching a plateau. Change, for all the reasons above, is making sure that we don't rest on our laurels. And as my good friend and salsa aficionado Christophe so astutely pointed out, Cubans have been playing propulsively, without the need for timbales in their line-ups, for more than a hundred years. As an old adage goes, "the more things change, the more they say the same".

Loo Yen

12th Night Extravaganza 2009. Friday Night (Part 2)

After eight years of unabated success, York's 12th Night Extravaganza finds itself at the grounds of the city's University having definitively outgrown the facilities at St.John's. And whilst acknowledging that the running of the North of England's only salsa congress is not the work of one person in isolation, its rise is surely a testament to Tony Piper's philosophy and will.

I find that any social event be it a lesson, club night, or congress weekender, reflects the culture and values of its main organisational driver. I believe 12th Night to be no exception, and whilst Tony's forthright manner may not be everyone's cup of tea, his Salsa Extravaganza is a more telling measure of the man. It has a charm of understated informality; an inclusiveness that draws together the leading lights of the region, and yet generously showcases the talents of those less well-known. Its programme of workshops have been planned to give a relaxed and easy pace throughout the day; and the parties at night, unfettered from the sideline's critical eye, are a true celebration of dance.

Dance as the end, and not the means to an end, is the Extravaganza's core.

And so I find myself in the middle of my basic but clean single room in Wentworth Hall, all dressed up and ready to dance, clutching a bottle of delectable rosé champagne for Mary and Tony in thanks for being their guest. With steam still issuing from the shower of the en-suite, I pull the door to and head out on the three minute walk to where the festivities are - The Roger Kirk Centre. It's Friday night and the man-made lake, around which York University campus is huddled, is an ice-rink for ducks as England bears the coldest winter she's experienced in fifty years.

Stepping into Reception, Mary and Tony are already there as hosts with a warm greeting for all. I get the obligatory banter and friendly abuse which I hurl back in equal measure - it'd've been rude not to. After hanging up my coat on the plentiful racks (an important and oft-overlooked detail at other places), I proceed through the now-closed cafeteria and into the generous main hall. One look tells me all I need to know.

A long well-staffed bar on one side; a dance floor bound on one side by a 0.5m high stage and ample seating-around tables on the other three; a total capacity circa 500 people; and open-able windows in the entirely-glazed outer wall means some measure of client control over ventilation. The floor looked like unsealed resin over concrete which was already kicking up power through erosion (many dancers over the weekend were to assume that talc had been laid down); the ladies' balls of foot were going to be throbbing at the end of the night; and dancers who didn't have stopping technique were going to be spinning gingerly.

The sound engineers would have had their hands full (they certainly didn't look like happy bunnies) with the highly sound-reflective surfaces and multi-tiered ceiling. As it turns out my preferred spot, right in front of stage, had the best acoustics - which was just perfect as Palenke were playing. They were one highlight in a studded evening, and a real surprise was whom they'd co-opted as their guest timbalero: none other than Jimmy Le Messurier. Palenke was right on the money, creating an atmosphere of relaxed yet vibrant energy which DJ Lubi skillfully continued for his all-too-short stint.

The time in-between the band's sets featured entertaining dance performances: dancesport chachachá, dancesport rhumba, mambo and funk-freestyles. These physical interjections, far from breaking the momentum of the night, were kept short and proved valuable association and cooling-down time. Certainly those in the audience, with their lighted faces, were cheered and cheered. When the shows closed and the band resumed the stage, I'd stopped doing my impression of being a hot-water bottle on legs. Now at a partner-considerate lukewarm temperature, I snuck up on Mary and pounced on her for a dance.

That's a metaphorical pounce by the way. For those of you who know Mary, you'll agree that catching her unawares is one of the great scientific improbabilities.

I was due only to spend the one night in York; some soul had had the temerity to book my room for Saturday night ...the cad! Mary discovered this over the course of our salsa a la cubana together, and offered me their spare room for Saturday. She's not the type to brook any argument, especially when hospitality is concerned. Truth be told, Tony had offered as well not a few hours previously - and with both their generous invitations, I chose to be honest and place myself in their debt once again.

Friday night proved to be the Essence of 12th Night. And as I retired to bed in the not-so-wee hours of Saturday, I remembered again why I needed to be in York.

(On to Part Three.)

Yeo Loo Yen