Contratiempo Rueda: Enchufla Is A Combination

Knowing in advance that this Solares was a double session, I chose to plan this as a substantial two plus hour masterclass; something I could afford to do based on the premise that all the attendees would have had significant prior experience.

Objectives
There were two learning objectives, broad enough enough to be considered contexts:

1. the continued performance of dance using contratiempo phrasing to the bongó's martillo - this would serve to ingrain the phrasing to the same naturalised extent as atiempo; and,
2. to investigate, in both 'big picture' and fine detail, the structure of one of rueda de casino's most basic pieces of vocabulary: the 'enchulfa' - as a basis for identifying and executing essential dance skills.

Rationale: Learning Group configuration
The learning group was set up into:

1. a membership of three: two leaders, one follower, and one virtual follower; and consequently,
2. into a rueda de casino square of two pairs; and,
3. partnerships without hold.

For leaders, the alternation between real and virtual followers would test, clarify and validate their spatial positioning. The square configuration of two pairs would create the most demanding angles in the performance of rueda de casino. If they could cope with this, every other configuration would be easy. The requirement for good visualisation would be laid bare through negating the use of the arms.

Concept: Revealing "enchufla" as a combination
The group was shown how the "enchulfa" move comprises three sequential change-of-place components of enchulfa, dame, and dile que no where:

1. enchufla is a simple change of place clockwise, incorporating a follower's left turn;
2. dame is a simple change of place clockwise, ending with a 90 degree change of orientation - followers to the right, leaders to the left - to acquire new partner;
3. dile que no is a simple change of place anti-clockwise.

As a result of component 2 (dame), there is a net group rotation of 90 degrees clockwise.

Warm Up
Partnered, without hold, to music. Calls used were "dame" and "enchufla-dame-dile que no". Calling was federated. The group was given time to get their bearings with the new orientation angles. It took two songs.

Exercise One: Pockets of Synchronisation
Dancers were asked to focus on their 'pockets of synchronisation' - phases in their dance where they were most available for synchronisation - corresponding to their martillo vocalisation of "toc-y-tik-y". The application of this point was most easily observed in the leaders when with their virtual follower. When asked at the end of this exercise, all dancers responded that they positively felt more 'in tune' with each other.

Exercise Two: Dame Pocket of Synchronisation 
I drew participants' attention to their movement ensuing from the 'dame' call, indicating that it lacked completion. Both followers and leaders, especially the latter, needed to end their movement not just oriented to their new partner, but finishing in a manner which made them available to be synchronised with. I called this the acquisition phase.

This stimulated a useful discussion about the moment preceding acquisition, when there was a tapered ending with the current partner before a smooth beginning with the new partner. I likened it to the use of a clutch in a car when changing gears.

Concept: Change-of-Place
Participants had exposed to the idea of change-of-place previously in our merengue sessions. The major difference between that then, compared to the change-of-place from the Caribbean Sway, is that the latter requires the places to be traded in two steps, not three. The first step of the Caribbean Sway is behind into close third position, which only leaves the second and third steps for movement.

The first step into reverse close third position 'loads up' the body and prepares it for movement through stacked torque curves in an upward cascade through the joints. This provides the drive of the second step taken, not directly into, but slightly diagonal of the partner.

Followers are led to trace a route of an asymmetrical "V": longer and shallower angled on the second step; shorter and more steeply angled on the third step. Leaders move themselves through the counterpart route around the partnership's axis of symmetry. Both routes together result in an oblique parallelogram, or offset diamond. The symmetry of the routes is indicative of the equal effort contributed by both partners to the movement.

This still holds true if either partner is executing a turn.

Exercise Three: Change-of-Place
The change-of-place movement was practised in partnership, first without music, then to martillo, then to music. The learning points provided were:

• "aim for your partner's shoulder" (on the passing side); and,
• "skimming around/almost brushing the turning partner's back with your chest".

Exercise Four: Caribbean Sway with Major Turn
I introduced a variant of the Caribbean Sway incorporating a major turn - turn in the same direction as the stepping leg (i.e. if stepping onto the right leg, then a rightward turn, or a leftward turn if stepping onto the left leg) - commencing on the second step. The rotation continues through the third step during the 'tok-y-tik', completing on the final '-y'. The turn is distributed across two bearings, created by the balls of both feet on the floor, and thus changes from a major turn in step two, to a minor turn in step three.

This is a common movement in rueda de casino, performed for example by the follower during enchufla.

Briefing: The Transnational Martillo
I was keen, with this being an extended session, to maintain participants' touch with music. And so, I took the opportunity to put my ethnomusicologist hat on, and provide some background to the existence, history, evolution and importance of the martillo rhythm in Caribbean music. I used 90 as the magic number, and began with two occurrences:

• 1990 as the date of release of "Bachata Rosa" by Juan Luis Guerra, the album which brought bachata to international prominence; and,
• 1890 as the beginning of Cuba's struggle for independence, which resulted in Sindo Garay's flight from Cuba to Dominica.

The discussion touched on the turbulent history of Haiti and Dominican Republic, the whitening of the latter, and how it impacted the interpretation and performance of its music and dance. The emphasis was on the shared origins of itinerant Cuban son and Dominican música de guitarra.

The Main Practice Session
All these elements were incorporated into rueda de casino practice, in square format, using only the elements of enchufla, dame, and dile que no, to federated calls. Music alternated between slow-tempo son and bachata, to up-tempo son montuno and salsa. Slower music emphasised control and primed movement, quicker music brought excitement and forced assimilation.

By the session's end, all participants had reached learning saturation and were physically tired, but enough practice had been done for the major points to be assimilated - ready for another double-session next week.

Loo Yen Yeo

Phase Changes: Symmetry Versus Asymmetry

Last night I had the participants all to myself, for a whole two hours, because my partner-in-teaching-crime had abandoned them to their fates, in favour of a blustery sojourn in England's North-East.

It was a chance to build momentum and give them something to sink their teeth into. Based on the evidence of cognitive saturation witnessed last week, I knew that I would only be able to push them with maracas-embodied rhythm practices for 45 minutes; any more and they would tip over into super-saturation, impairing their learning ability. There had to be a contrasting activity for the remainder 75 minutes.

So I decided to dedicate the first half of the double Solares session to maracas-embodiment activity, and the second half to a 'sneak peek' at an upcoming chapter for next year. The latter would contextualise more skills, allowing me to introduce them earlier than I'd planned.

When the sun shines, it's time to make hay.

Warm Up: Complete maraca rhythm, son montuno version
Solo, to music. Caribbean sway basic, atiempo embodiment rhythm. Playing the compete maraca rhythm.

After three songs, it was time to make things more interesting:

Exercise One: Caribbean sway and on-the-spot embodiment transitions, with maracas
Solo, to music. Playing maraca rhythm. Lower body moving between the Caribbean sway and marking rhythm on the spot.

Participants found it challenging to maintain steady maracas rhythm because of interference from the lower body rhythm. Once the long side-step of the Caribbean sway was denied to them (they'd been using the distance to absorb time during the 'slow'), participants were unable to absorb the time by slowing down the movement of their joints. This indicated an area of imminent attention.

Exercise Two: Simple embodiment transitions, with maracas
Solo, to music. Playing maraca rhythm. Lower body moving between the Caribbean sway, marking rhythm on the spot, walking forward.

Playing the maracas rhythm while performing the salsa walk made the phase-change relationship between the instrument and the dance obvious.

• Salsa is a symmetrical dance i.e. a different leg is used at the beginning of each bar/measure of music
• Maracas-playing is an asymmetrical activity i.e. the same hand is used at the beginning of each bar/measure of music.

Put them both together and one bar will begin with the arm and leg of the same side, the next bar will begin the same arm with leg of the other side. For example:

left arm-left leg; left arm-right leg; left arm-left leg; left arm-right leg...

This can be read as:

in-phase; out-of-phase; in-phase; out-of-phase...

Correlating that with the brain's motor activity:

right side fires; both sides fire; right side fires; both sides fire...

Hence the brain experiences a cyclical fluctuation in co-ordinative load during the performance of the maraca-embodiment rhythm.

Based on their greater level of automation with the Caribbean sway, participants had worked out a progression for their practice: Caribbean sway > on the spot > salsa walk. When they became perturbed, they would return to the Caribbean sway instead of stopping. Likewise with their maracas: one set of double tones (4,4+); two sets of double tones (2,2+ and 4,4+); complete maracas rhythm.

It was encouraging to see them all take charge of their own practice and to manage the levels of challenge in a scalar manner.

By now, we were sailing close to the cliffs of cognitive saturation. It was time for a change. Time for 'The Human Dance Recorder'.

Loo Yen

El Reloj de Pastora

There are times when, as a musician, you can feel the potential in a song. It's a feeling of great promise as yet untapped, where every ounce of effort poured in will be rewarded in kind, now matter how much your own abilities grow. Such pieces are rare, gems to be treasured, nurtured even, and this classic composed by Arsenio Rodríguez is one. The example I selected for us to learn from is Sierra Maestra's fine interpretation; first for Conjunto Laloma, and lately for 4 de Diciembre.

'El Reloj de Pastora' is proving to be an inspired addition to our playlist. Its unusual key and lulling hypnotic quality of its harmonic progression; moving from B flat minor to A flat major, then transiting through F major on the return to the root, creates an interesting harmonic space for soloing - something the Decemberists have very much enjoyed. The challenge has been, and continues to be, the song's revealing simplicity and how we adapt it best to our instrumentation.

The lyrical theme is based on iteration and misdirection, and as such places heavy demand on a singer's ability to interpret and phrase. The high tessitura of the original key is a chance to develop the upper section of my vocal range, and thankfully 'El Reloj de Pastora' can accept a singing style slightly more laced with overt classical technique than most salsa numbers. The thematic subtexts; the metaphorical meanings that inform the phrasing, are taking a little more time to understand, because it's not literally about "The Shepherdess' Clock" - I read it as being about a something-someone's time.

As a personal journey, 'El Reloj de Pastora' is opening the way to a better understanding of the son and the son montuno. Yes, 4 de Diciembre are charanga-salsa in lineup, and I wanted to preserve that son montuno lilt despite the move to salsa instrumentation, but with a contemporary edge. Strangely enough, it was a stubborn desire both to play the slow rhythm on the güiro and to dance contratiempo while singing that provided a flavour of authenticity.

Nothing worth learning comes cheaply.

I found that the upper body güiro rhythm (one cycle per bar) and the lower body contratiempo rhythm (one cycle per two bars), provided the independent reference points necessary for rhythmic triangulation to solidify the vocal phrasing in the son montuno style. Managing the attacks of the vocals (early), güiro (middle) and dance (late) is awkward for now, but getting less so every day.

At least there's a clear course of development for this singing-güiroing-dancing escapade: moving to son montuno and then chachachá footwork.

©Copyright 2004 World Circuit. All Rights Acknowledged.

Manuel Güajiro Mirabal's version hasn't yet found its way into my lap, but it will once we've got a stronger handle on the groove - I've got a feeling that the trumpet ideas could well propel our playing of the song to new heights. After we've built up the basics that is. Until then, it'll have to twiddle its thumbs impatiently on my wishlist.

Santa... ¿porfi?

looyenyeo

The Need To Know

In 'Philosophical Reasoning' the author, Nicholas Rescher, proposes that:

"At the basis of the cognitive enterprise lies the fact of human curiosity rooted in the need-to-know of a weak and vulnerable creature emplaced in a difficult and often hostile environment in which it must make its evolutionary way by its wits."

I read that as, 'the need to know is a fundamental survival trait in humans'.

This is at odds with the other better-known "need to know" phenomenon describing the restriction of information regarded as sensitive. The latter was a major bugbear of mine during my days as a dance competitor, where I consistently felt that I was being drip-fed information at a rate that hindered my development. Not that I blamed my instructors.

Not at all. The urgency was in the preparing of us for competition, and they didn't want us to be side-tracked by extraneous information. I interpreted it as their being most comfortable with a parent's "do as I say" paradigm. However the approach did rob me of the ability to tailor my development to suit best my needs; and slower, less accurate assimilation because there was only a small contextual framework with which I could associate new material. "Need to know" left me not knowing the right questions to ask.

It wasn't until my second year, when things seemed as if they would remain unchanged, that I threw down the gauntlet at my dance teachers and asked them to challenge me. To their credit, Carole and Jeff threw even the kitchen sink at us (my then partner and I); and the results came quickly - a leap in the number of re-calls to the floor.

I made a promise then, to myself, that I would not ever teach in the same way.

The principle of providing as much information as the learner can possibly take has several benefits, and just as many drawbacks.

• It is intellectually highly taxing on both parties.
• The instructor bears the burden of organising the information in order to reduce the onset of student saturation.
• It has a greater setup cost because of the larger contextual framework. Initial progress can be perceived as slow but once established, the assimilation phase of the learning process is comparatively speedy, flexible and accurate.
• The distribution of the group according ability and commitment is rapidly established.
• Highly self-motivated students benefit the most with this approach. It is not suitable for lowest common denominator teaching.

I got to thinking about this because of two recent experiences: one when I was asked to teach a group of secondary school dance students (more in a later entry); and the other with Conjunto Laloma.

We'd been working on a tremendous lot of stuff over the past week, and I realised that I hadn't done the best possible job of organising the material nor emphasising enough where the weight should lie. One cogitation session in the shower later (I do all my best thinking there) et voila! I had a firm design for the workshop. It looked like this:

Part 1 - Changing the feel between son and son montuno by altering the proportion of instruments playing the arpeggiated cinquillo-based rhythm vs guajeo rhythm.
Part 2 - Tresillo rhythm and its variations, counterweighting, and handover points. Developing a stronger handle on this fundamental motif.
Part 3 - Introducing a regular reference pattern.
Part 4 - Riffs, stabs and moñas.
Part 5- A sneak peek at the whole thing. Assembling the full rhythmic context with a regular reference rhythm, a syncopated rhythm, sobremontuno, and moñas.

I knew it was going to be a tough ask for a 2-hour-something session, but I desperately wanted to establish as much of the full context as possible. Implicit within Nicholas Rescher's statement is the requirement to act (or actively decide on inaction) upon the knowledge gathered. Conjunto's been pulling 2 workshops a week, and it was soon going to be time to employ the 'whole-part-whole' learning principle; so we could have the context of complete songs combined with specific exercises.

Knowledge means little if unaccompanied by the will to effect change.

Despite the leisurely discussions in between exercises, accompanied by tea and chocolate cake, we managed to make it through all five planned parts - albeit the last felt only the slightest of touches. It's enough to be satisfied with, and more than enough as a starting point for next week.

Loo Yen Yeo

Bomb-proof Laloma

The past two weeks to have been more musically fulfilling to me than I could possibly have wished for. I think that's a testament to our philosophy of 'friends in a workshop' approach.

When we set out a fortnight ago, I felt that one of the primary milestones was being able to play in a way that distinguished between son and son montuno. Yesterday we took a very big step forward with El carretero as a context thanks to Jeremy playing either the guajeo or cinquillo-arpeggiated pattern on tres, myself interpreting the latter on guitar, and Jan playing tresillo on violin (Catie's been away surveying the environment 'down South'). And the real mark of progress was how we could begin to flavour the music for white or black consumption, simply with some minor variations like muted notes and changes in phrasing.

The realisation of years of accumulated theory in a moment of practice is an experience I still today, 24 hours later, feel very grateful for.

The immediate plan is for us to continue along the same vein. We'll be working on the same rhythms but additionally start exploring variations and what they mean for the listener; start developing interaction using rhythm hand-over exercises; and explore changing the rhythm balance in ensemble. I intend to build for us a bomb-proof rhythm foundation that the great Cuban ensembles have.

True to my predictions, although much sooner than I expected, I'm under pressure to improve my guitar work just to stay ahead of the others - which is exactly what I was needing. And they guys asked me, "why Laloma?" It's a play on words from the very famous son called 'son de la loma', where the lead singer asks where the best son singers are from; and the response is that they're from la loma [literally 'hillock', but specifically a region in Cuba]. I think we're committed to playing that number.

Loo Yeo

Slow Music

All four of us from conjunto got together for the first time this afternoon, Catie, Jan, Jeremy and myself. Jan is the only non-current member of 4de12 and we've collectively been sharing the same stage as band-mates for the past five years. Let's just say we're comfortable in each other's company.

This time around with Conjunto Laloma, I wanted to take a Slow Food approach; making sure we took the time to build on and assimilate properly each concept in Cuban music-making. I figured that the best way to do this was with a relaxed workshop format: with heavy emphasis on practice, concentrating on a small number of points, principle variation-based learning; rich in example; time to be discursive; and most of all, highly contextual. People who benefit most from this model of learning are those who are patient and exacting, which fits the four of us down to a T.

The mark of good Cuban music is a deceptive simplicity brought about by a mastery of rhythm played at a temperate speed. Indeed during Arsenio Rodríguez's time, tempo was a defining characteristic of Cuban popular music: mid-tempo requiring more control and having more opportunity for expression was consumed by blacks; up-tempo was favoured by the then social elite who were predominantly white.

So I set out our first session with three opening entries into conjunto's rhythm library: an arpeggiated cinquillo-based form; a classic guajeo; and son clave. These are the building blocks that distinguish between a type of son and the son montuno; and being able to interpret a song in either form, or a middle point thereof, would be our earliest anticipated milestone.

For context, we've started with four songs:

• Yo soy el sonero
  son original, 2-3 clave, A minor, 2 chord progression, rhythmic cycle of 2 clave phrases.
• Chan chan
  son cover by Francisco Repilado, 3-2 clave, E minor, 4 chord progression, rhythmic cycle of 2 clave phrases.
• El carretero
  son cover by Guillermo Portables, 3-2 clave, A minor, 2 chord progression, rhythmic cycle of 1 clave phrase.
• Tributo al son
  son montuno original, 2-3 clave, A minor, 2 chord progression (+2 optional), rhythmic cycle of 1 clave phrase.

The difference in cycle times would allow us later to investigate rhythmic dilation, and experiencing both clave orientations would deepen our feel for its fuerte [strong] and debil [weak] properties. The underlying rhythm streams of all four songs varied in feel: from the strongly clave-indicative to the highly clave-diffuse. Having them in the same (or similar key) would allow us to explore the portability of motifs across songs more easily; helping us understand the commonalities in Cuban popular music.

My role on guitar was to provide the broadest possible stream of notes (as described by Marty Sheller) as well as lead vocals; the skeletal structure of conjunto. Jeremy on tres, Catie on flute, and Jan on violin explored their way through, getting a handle of the rhythms and how they interact with one another. We covered a lot of ground today.

Slow Music is like Slow Food: relaxing, comforting, made for sharing.

From personal experience, music is most appreciated when endowed with a sense of time and of place. The three of them left clutching my DVDs of Trio Matamoros and Septeto Nacional, and a CD of the former - a starter course in the genre that I've grown to love in all its guises be it singing, writing, playing, or dancing. And I would never have presumed to call it homework.

Loo Yeo

Beauty, Understanding and Grace

Cuatro de Diciembre had been having changes in line-up and I'd found myself necessarily giving more priority others at practice, in order to be best prepared for our performing commitments. As time drew on, I caught myself more frequently being musically complacent ...in a large ensemble there are plenty of places to hide.

It wasn't a situation I wanted to be in, and so I set out for the polar extreme; I sought to develop myself as a self-accompanied singer - it's the most exposed position a musician can be in with nowhere to hide, and subsequently brings plenty of pressure for improvement. That was a year ago.

Then came the prospect of Conjunto Laloma (for which I'll use the abbreviated shorthand conjunto) and all that it offered. Playing in a small group shares many aspects with playing as a solo musician, plus there's the added pleasure of sharing and interacting. And I couldn't think of it being more enjoyable than doing so with good friends.

But I knew to my core that for conjunto to come alive, there had to be Grace living in its reason for being. It had to have musicians who'd so loved learning that they'd already sacrificed selfish pride on the altar of the open mind, who carried the mark of insatiable curiosity, who always delved their deepest in their playing music for others. It had to mean Beauty - for us to render each song at its best in the playing, arrangement and creation. It had to have the promise of Understanding, the ideal that each of us would have appreciated something new come the close of every session.

I undertook to be the torchbearer for the latter.

Conjunto needs to draw from the same well of knowledge that Cuban musicians have been drinking from since their birth. Its manner of execution must also be from the ground up: fundamental rhythms, sobremontunos, then moñas. And in a small acoustic setting, listening, interacting and co-ordinating arrangements promises to be something, well, more intimate.

"Simple music played elegantly" best describes the intent, following the examples of Sierra Maestra, Trío Matamoros, Eliades Ochoa, Septeto Nacional, Arsenio Rodríguez and Benny Moré. With conjunto being comprised completely of multi-instrumentalists, I forsee an opportunity to play vallenatos amongst other Caribbean folkloric genres, but the core music will be Cuban: son, changüi, güajira, pregón and son montuno.

But talk's cheap.

Earlier today, Jeremy (pianist for 4de12) and I had a get-together to get a feel of the potential for a line-up rhythmically based on guitars. I particularly wanted to know whether a nylon-string guitar and steel-string tres combo could sonically form an effective rhythmic backbone for the sort of music I had in mind to play. Jeremy was playing guajeos. I was articulating both the bass tumbao and either a guajeo or an arpeggiated cinquillo-based rhythm simultaneously.

The results were very, very encouraging - there was potential for power and grace in conjunto's music.

Jeremy left the house with pointers on the walking method of tres-playing; and with both of us looking forward to the first full gathering of conjunto in a few days time.

looyenyeo

Suficiente Tiempo Para El Son

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

Neither of them easy questions to answer.

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

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

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

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

Conditions were ripe for embarking on another project.

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

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

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

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

Loo Yen Yeo

"Arsenio Rodriguez and the Transnational Flows of Latin Popular Music" by David F. García

Seldom does a single person make such a contribution to the development of Afro-Cuban music that his or her biography alone would form a significant chapter in the genre's history.

Arsenio Rodriguez is such a man.
And David García is such a storyteller.

I've read a number of these books, each seemingly drawn from a musicologist's thesis; and whilst thoroughly researched, logically structured, bearing robust arguments and defensible conclusions, I found a good deal of them a little dry. Not this one.

Yes, it is true that having some knowledge of music and being able to read it does help quite a bit. But I think the author has succeeded in being able to render what he has to say accessible to the layperson. The contents are laid out in chronological order, allowing the reader to appreciate the formative events in Arsenio's life and thus insight as to what moved him. A posthumous reflection on this remarkable musician's life followed.

For a man whose creativity gave us arguably, the mambo before its internationalised guise; definitively, the second coming of the son in the form of the son montuno; and the entire rhythm section of what forms salsa today: introducing the tumbadoras, developing the guajeo/montuno rhythm, and solidifying the role of the bass, Arsenio's name is little recognised outside the circles of aficionados. Whatismore, his life is shrouded in myth and hearsay - as all Great Legends' are. David García's erudite work does much to explain Arsenio Rodriguez, the man and his music: dispelling much, explaining much, and revealing an even greater man over the course. Arsenio still remains arguably the most significant songwriter of all time.

If that's not enough, then let me put it another way: if you want to know what mambo might have meant before the Palladium, and the difference between a son and a son montuno, pick up the book.