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

A Place Or A Name?

I've been using Facebook as a research resource for a project I'm working on: looking at salsa all over the world, with an especially keen eye on communities where salsa is not indigenous like Asia and Australia. I signed in one morning to find that Bosco had left me a question about an experience he had in India which triggered a flurry of dialogue. Here's the (edited for brevity) wall-to-wall:

[begins]

Jose María Bustos:
Loo, as a musician I gotta ask you, while playing in Mumbai a woman walked up to me and said she loved my music, but why was it 'all on two' ? I glared at her and explained that there is no such thing as 'on one' or 'on two' music its all the same, but you can choose to dance it on one or on two.

Who has started this rumor that muscians actually sit down and say 'oh, lets write an 'on one' or an 'on two' track today. Its mambo, cha cha, timba whatever but never one or two. Can I get a witness on this!? or an I missing something here?

Loo Yeo:
I don't go out to write songs for 'on1' or 'on2', I don't know of any artists who do. However, you can certainly take a song and interpret it in a way that certain 'clans' of dancers would associate with. I'll be brave and say that the association occurs at the dance pedagogic end.

Very interesting experience you had there! What music did you play?

Also, I'm able to give you a more thorough response via a blog article. Mind if I address it by opening using the below (above in this case) as a quote?

Jose María Bustos:
Please do, by all means! Frankly I see it being bad for salsa if dance school perpetuate this notion and bad for music sales as well. You are correct it is a dance school notion and should be nipped in the bud!

Jose María Bustos:
Johnny Cruz, Bobby Valentin, Cheo Navarro, Willie Rosario, Issac Delgado, Hector Ramos, Mulenza, Eklan...

Loo Yeo:
hmm. You kept to Puerto Rican/Nuyorican salsa mainly? Was the Issac material pre-timba?

Jose María Bustos:
Dude, I play NYC style and the Issac is post Timba, as he's now amercianised himself with a more Miami sound, beat and arrangements. But I can mix it up with the best of em! Which brings me to Soneros All Stars 'La Timba Soy Yo' This is... ...my kind of Timba!!

Loo Yeo:
I think I understand more about the context of the lady in Mumbai's question. NYC salsa could have been associated with On2 purely on a geographical basis; instead of understanding which musical features should be significantly prominent (irrespective of source location) which might best suit an On2 style.

[ends]

NYC style. NYC salsa.

If we're talking dance then are we referring to Eddie Torres On2? Palladium or Power 2? How about Boogaloo? That's a style born of the great city. And Pachanga too. Both the last two are ostensibly On1...

And is the concept of synchronising a movement with beat two specific to NYC? Is "{anything}2" a NYC trademark? What of contratiempo or en clave which have been Cuban phenomena for more than a century?

What sort of music is New York salsa best danced to? Is it that which simply comes from New York? Fania, RMM, salsa dura, salsa romántica, DLG, Yerba Buena, La Excelencia, Orquesta Broadway, Wayne Gorbea?

What about El Gran Combo or Sonora Ponceña if they'd recorded in Puerto Rico?

Reading Mary Kent's biography of Eddie Torres featured on http://www.eddietorres.com/salsa.html

[quote]
"With no concept of timing, technique or theory, his instruction consisted of rudimentary pointers: "You hear that accent? That means you break forward with the left foot and when you hear it again, you break back." This is known as dancing on two, Eddie would soon find out.
Breaking on two meant that of a four beat measure, you stepped forward with the left foot on the second beat and on the second beat second measure you stepped back on the right foot. According to Eddie's mentor, Tito Puente, that's why beat two is so popular, because it compliments the tumbao of the conga and the rhythm section."
[unquote]
©1995 Mary Kent. All Rights Acknowledged.

It's exactly consistent with what he and I talked about in '96 when I first started dancing his style: then branded "Street 2".

I've played a lot of Latin percussion since, and realise that the accent Eddie's talking about is the slap stroke of the tumbao moderno on the conga. It's played on (what European-trained musicians recognise as) beat two. New York-style mozambique, a favoured rhythm of Eddie Palmieri, also has slap strokes on beat two; as well as on the 'and of 1' and 'and of 4' every other bar.

A caballo, also interpreted on the conga for pachanga, has slap strokes on beats one and three, with a hardly-audible ghost stroke on beat two. Slap strokes are generally optional in another New York favourite, the guaguancó originally from the West Cuban ports of Matanzas and La Habana (the slaps would precede the open tones to add definition, and work a fill in the phrase).

This means that if we were slavishly to adhere to the raison d'etre of Street 2, we would mainly be dancing only songs containing a tumbao moderno and NYC mozambiques. And hence any defensible critique of a DJ playing mainly "On2" tracks would require the critic being able to distinguish the likes of mozambiques, chachachás, and guarachas from the other likes of pachangas, guaguancós and songos.

Referring again to the first line of the quote from Mary Kent - I seldom come across On2 dance instructors, or On1 ones for that matter, who have a strong enough understanding of: the rhythmic structures of salsa, and the purposes which the On1 and On2 time-steps are meant to achieve, to be able to communicate this clearly to their students.

Sadly, the gap in this knowledge is papered over with the dogma 'NYC-style salsa dance is danced to NYC salsa music'.

More regretfully, this façade hides the richness of the basic time-step and how it may be varied to interpret the breadth of salsa's music. How many dancers think that there is only one way of executing the basic time-step, and that they've learned it already?

I know first-hand that the charismatic creator of "Street 2" emphasises adaptability, not rigidity. What makes him great to this very day, even when there are others who are flashier, younger and faster, is his desire to understand the Whys and to make sure that he fulfills seriously his responsibilities as an educator - that his students are informed to the best of his ability.

An educator empowers his students to choose, and eventually to own their knowledge. I stopped dancing On2 years ago. My partners now dance with me.

I should like that the rising stars of the salsa dance-teaching scene remember that there is more to it than just the excitement of travel, glamour of performance, and the adulation at the congresses. There is the very real task of being an educator, which unarguably requires more commitment than any prolonged training for a stage show.

And I should like that their young charges continue to ask the 'why?' of them, to release their ultimate potential.

Yeo Loo Yen

24th April 2009 Conjunto Salsonito @Salsaworks, Roger Kirk Centre, York (Part 2)

Conjunto Salsonito dishing out New York-style Salsa Dura

The Galleria of the Roger Kirk Centre comfortably hosted five hundred and fifty salseros at Twelfth Night, whilst the Engine Shed would pack out at slightly over two hundred with the overspill moving to the floor upstairs. Seasoned promoters would spot straight away the potential danger of a significant leap in venue size and the impact that might have not just on cost, but also in atmosphere.

With a lot at stake and a number of competing events on that night and that weekend, Tony, Mary, Alfredo and Christine pulled all the stops out mobilising their considerable salsa-base, inviting two performance shows, putting on the band, and designing a rather interesting warm-up lesson (more on that later). The attention to detail was relentless. That's what the "none of that jazzy bollocks" quip was about, jazz musicians are occasionally given to an introspective mode of playing with robs a salsa performance of its typical exuberance; it was a reminder to remain extroverted and engaged with the dancers.

Well, it worked.

Conjunto Salsonito delivered recognisably New York-style salsa dura tracks well, and the progression through the setlist did point to some measure of Lubi's hand in the selection; I've known him for long enough to make out his style of music. I can see why the band could be marketed as in the mould of La Perfecta, mainly with the deployment of two trombones. But though they played well, they weren't committed enough to be put in the same league. Let's face it, few groups ever will be.

As an ethnomusicologist and salsa historian, it's easy for me to see why.

In Mary Kent's interview with Eddie in her definitive 'Salsa Talks', Mr.Palmieri talked of how La Perfecta was made special because each and every member was unified in an "unbearable" single purpose. That phrase is permanently seared in my mind as a benchmark for any ensemble performance, be it my own, any other band, or dance troupe.

There is only one word - Intensity.

I think that's the nub of it, if the rumours be true. The performers didn't come across as believing completely in the music they were playing - it's a problem if numbers are selected without getting enough 'buy in' from the people interpreting them. Don't get me wrong, it was a competent rendition that could have been blessed with a little more flair; perhaps a few shamelessly extroverted face-melting solos a la Jack Black's 'School of Rock'.

'Restrained' would be the fairest word that I could use based on what I experienced. One number, ironically their cover of Eddie Palmieri's 'Muñeca', showed off Conjunto Salsonito's full potential - they laid it out absolutely brilliantly. It was the clearest instance of the musicians united in purpose. If I were music director for the band, I'd strengthen the setlists by trialling thirty to forty shortlisted songs, selecting for the ones that spoke to every musician in the same way that 'Muñeca' did. It's harder work, but it's an approach that's paid dividends for 4de12.

All that said, it wouldn't be unrealistic of me to expect great things of them when I see them next; and I wish Jonny every success. Few guys deserve it more.

The other formally scheduled diversions of evening were two amateur dance troupe performances: one from York-based Encuentro Latino, the other from Jimmy SA's school in Newcastle. Both troupes were large, about ten couples each. Whilst not having the precision and polish of a professional one, they both had something that pro groups sometimes lack: enthusiasm and... you guessed it, Intensity.

Striking Pose: Newcastle Amateur Performance Troupe
choreographed by Jimmy SA

I always, always, watch the faces of first-time performers - it reminds me of much and keeps me honest.

With all of the performances over, I set about spreading myself out a bit: dancing contratiempo with an ETOn2 salsa newbie here, a chachachá there, some bachata thrown in.

Which reminds me... Alfredo and Christine's lesson earlier on. It was a combination of bachata and tango, that is, 'bachatango' danced to Gotan Project-style music - a movement currently being promoted by well-travelled bachata instructor Tony Lara. I thought it was fun. And yes, I know the purists of both would have been giving the above two lines the evil stare, but the two genres have at least two things in common: the Caribbean rhythmic motif of the cinquillo; and their histories as suppressed musics and dances of the underprivileged classes. I just don't know how the defining hip movements of the Dominican dance can be squared with the stringent lack of one in the Argentine tango. And surely in terms of spirit, isn't the kizomba a more mature and better resolved system? Bachatango can't even boast the advantage of ambidextrous movement changes that tango has over the kizomba.

Sounds like an attempt at product diversification to me.

Meanwhile back on the dance floor, I espied an East European stunner and resolved to find out if she could dance as well as she looked. She would have been hard to miss: red dress, carefully coiffured highlighted hair, pearly white teeth, plenty of foundation, matching lipstick and accessories. I gave her every opportunity to express herself and valiantly got as far as a little honest smile behind her broad display one. Part of me felt extremely tempted to put her through her paces to see if I could get her blusher could run from her perspiration, but thankfully I managed to suppress that Chingis Khan portion of my psyche and decorously returned her to her table unmussed at the end of the song.

The contrast with the next dance, a salsatón with an uninhibited power-pack of a partner could not have been more stark. Urban movements, rhythmic tensions, sexuality... drew an impromptu round of applause from those seated nearby; likely for the sheer bravado.

By the time I hit the sack at the Piper's, the birds were tweeting. Again. It's getting to be a bit of a disturbing habit.

Salsaworks with Conjunto Salsonito was an evening plum-full of enjoyment. And from the looks of every salsa dancer there, there was plenty of the stuff going around.

Salsonito are a solid band, and I very much enjoyed dancing to them. But their management, whomever they might be, should exercise more care when marketing them in the same breath as the words La Perfecta.

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

You Dancing? I'm Asking

Putting yourself 'out there' is kinda tough.

I'm not referring to the act of stepping out on the dance floor. I talking about that more important act beforehand: going to and asking someone for a dance. It's something that fledgling salseros, believing me an old hand, quiz me about a fair bit. Usually this happens at the edge of the floor, so I only have a few seconds to reply.

The short answer, at least for beginners and males, is that if you don't ask, you don't dance. The question then really becomes, "how much do you really want to dance?" After that, growing the rhino-hide and the self-assurance not to take rejection of a very personal act personally, becomes academic.

Sometimes I sugar-coat it a little, but if the fledgling finds it difficult to take an honest answer, well, then he or she only tends to hang around the edges of the floor for a few more weeks before disappearing.

Salsa has a brutal underbelly.

Appreciating this, I never turn down a request to dance unless my would-be partner is obviously drunk beyond the point of my being able to navigate her safely about the floor (think 'listing galleon'). It likewise holds true for those who might have serially turned me down in the past - life's too short to indulge in point-scoring; and that, for me, isn't what salsa's about. Partaking of Nottingham's generous salsa scene is a strange role-reversal where women outnumber men dance-wise (it reminds me a lot of what Sheffield was like fifteen years ago). It was there that a partner used exactly the same words I'd used, "you don't ask, you don't dance".

But clearly the more experienced you get at reading people, the better you maximise the chances of someone agreeing.

Which brings me nicely to what prompted me to this post. A salsera friend wanted to know what I looked for in the sort of person that I would ask.

"Easy!" I said. She looked at me as if she understood that I was simply after partners of negotiable morals.

"Just three things" I interjected, avoiding a clip around the ear.

"The most important is to see laughter in her eyes. This tells me why she's dancing.

"The second is whether she tries to use floorspace considerately, partner allowing. This speaks to me of her generosity.

"The third, and least important of the three, is the quality of her back-step. One unstressed backward step tells me more of a dancer's ability, training and persistence than a fancy triple spin with sauerkraut ending. It's the most overlooked probably because it's unsighted, even the so-called professionals seldom get it right."

I've long since given up the empty calories of eye-candy. Why people dance, who they are, and how they dance - that's what makes me decide. What they dance doesn't even get a look-in.

And then I asked her to dance. Strange... her back-step's feeling a bit lumpier than usual...

Loo

Tail-Swinging Syncopation

We interrupt Loo's train of posts for this important message...

I've been spying a number of posts recently on various fora regarding syncopation. "What's synchopation?" is the 800-pound Gorilla of commonly-asked-questions during my workshops, be they dancers or drummers. It's a question of 'nightmare' potential; capable of bogging a session down more quickly than a trench of congealing custard can a long-haired cat.

The ideal answer has to be quick, cover most of the bases, imaginative, and humourous - so that I can get back on track. It wasn't easy until I came across this post on Garrit Fleischmann's excellent Cyber-Tango and I've been using it for more than ten years:

[Quote]

Date: Thu, 14 May 1998 10:20:20 -0700
From: Bruss Bowman
Subject: Rhythm, syncopation and some humor:

Rhythm, syncopation and some humor:

Syncopation as it relates to music can be defined as a variation of rhythm by placing emphasis or accent on a rest or silent beat

As it relates to dance this would mean 'stepping' on a rest or silent beat.

There are two dynamics that can be syncopated:

1. The music
2. The dance
   

This leads to 4 possible combinations.

In the order of difficulty to execute in a dance:
=================================================

• A regular musical rhythm that is not syncopated by either of the dancers (aka walking on the beat)
• A regular musical rhythm that is syncopated by one or more of the dancers
• Musical rhythm syncopation that is not itself syncopated by one or more of the dancers ( ie dancers are following the musical syncopation )
• Musical rhythm syncopation with that is syncopated by one or more of the dancers ( ie dancers are syncopating the musical syncopation. )

Musical examples:

Example of regular musical rhythms: DiSarli's "El Pollito"

Example of musically syncopated rhythms: Pugliese's "Gallo Ciego"

There is a reason that most good teachers will choose DiSarli as the music of choice for classes and that they don't choose Pugliese. DiSarli is definitely easier to dance to ( Syncopated or not ). Although dancing to Pugliese offers a much richer experience but it requires a higher degree of musical sensitivity not to mention a lot of intensity.

Dancing Examples:

Example of a non-syncopacted(sic) dancer:
My vote would go to GodZilla. Being a genetic mutant he is physiologically incapable of syncopation. When he invades Tokyo you hear

Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump

Not

Thump, Thumpity Thumpity, Thump.

Also due to his small brain size he is notorious for stepping back in the line of dance usually stomping some poor unsuspecting couple. And I won't even mention that tail thing.

Example of a syncopated dancer:
Omar Vega ( I'm serious now! ) For those who haven't seen Omar dance his style is HIGHLY syncopated and beautiful to watch. He is currently on a teaching tour in the U.S. and if you have a chance to see him I would definitely recommend it.

We can take these dancing examples and come up with a dance floor rating system. Let's call it the "ZILLA-METER"

As you enter a Milonga take an inventory of the leaders present and categorize them as either being more like Godzilla or more like Omar Vega. Then take the resulting numbers and divide the number of Zillas by the number of Vegas. This will give you the "ZILLA-METER" rating.

Use the following chart to rate your dance floor

Zilla Rating Description
0 - 0.1 This is the dance floor of your dreams. Let me know if you find a floor like this !!!
0.1-0.3 Excellent floor. Although you do have a small chance of getting stepped on.
0.4-0.6 Moderately dangerous floor. Too many Zillas for general comfort.
0.7-1 Floor's pretty dangerous. Not safe for small children.
> 1 Thump, Thump, Thump.........Ahhhhhhhhhhh
:-)
Best Regards,
Bruss

[Unquote]
Reproduced with permission.
Copyright©1998 www.cyber-tango.com
All Rights Acknowledged.

Bruss is a genius.

©Copyright 2009 Gen Kanai. All Rights Acknowledged.

Since then, I've been using Godzilla as an example of a non-syncopating beast: Thump, Thump, Thump, Thump (with the occasional roar). If he/she were syncopating, we would sometimes hear "Thump, Thumpity Thumpity, Thump" as we were running away.

My impressions of Godzilla doing the soft-shoe shuffle on his/her way through downtown Tokyo have yet to make it to YouTube.

Roar.

Loo

An Exigeant Vision

Exigency is a good word - that combination of need and urgency, that mad glint in the eye of someone who's been bitten by the bug. I've seen it a thousand times; witnessed how it stokes in its bearer the must to be equipped for the social space of liberation that is the dance floor.

The exigent vision is one of Preparation. "I have to be ready! What do I need?"

Moves, combinations, timing, lead, follow, styling, more styles, shoes... smile!

For these souls, the pressure of the beginning is relentless. And even when it starts to diminish during the ascent up the evolutionary slopes, the view to the summit remains the same - the vision, no longer exigeant, nevertheless remaining one of Preparation.

I see it as I take a mysterious partner's hand. She's exquisitely prepared, but she's not there. I recognise the setups from a local school; flawless pivot technique from an LA DVD; arm styling of a World Champion; a sensuous neckroll from a lambada class; smooth rhythmic interpretation brought from the East Coast; sinuous Duplessey-like hips, and wonderful smile that barely touches her eyes...

Because she's too busy being ready. And she has been since she started. I'd know the same too, of mysterious men, if I'd been her and known to look.

Perhaps you've made out my artifice - where a narrator assumes a mantle of dominance by referring to the Other as fragments. It's the same trick used in the songs we dance to: "Magia de tus besos" [The magic of your kisses] by Grupo Niche and "Esos Tus Ojos Negros" [Those dark eyes of yours] by Pete "El Conde" Rodríguez.

I'm embracing a collage of beauty: a collection of pieces of a perfect partner. And I have yet no inkling who she is; only the narrators she's chosen to take from. The Exigent Vision leaves us, women and men equally, submissive to Preparation.

And what of a vision of Identity where we ask, "Who am I? What do I need to be me?"

When do we decide to knit the fragments into a whole and speak our own narrative?

Who knows of the difference, and that a choice can be made?

"The young have no time for philosophy, the elderly have no time for anything but philosophy" says Joe, friend and one-time DJ and conguero, paraphrasing from a classical thinker. He expresses it to his students as, "the young are concerned with the techniques, the old are concerned only with content". Joe's interpretation reveals the relationship of 'philosophy' as content; and 'elderly' as maturity in our modern times.

In this instance I would express,

"The young have no time for philosophy, the elderly have no time for anything but philosophy";

as,

"The young pursue every means to be ready, the mature seek to be clear about who they are".

I spoke earlier of the tension between Identity and Preparation, and of taking the Experience of it dancing (see A Vision Statement). Before then, I'd not been effective in articulating to myself the reasons why, on solely altruistic dance grounds, some people would prefer to share a dance with certain others. Vision is part of the answer.

Dance is informed by Music in the most unexpected of ways.

Yeo Loo Yen

A Vision Statement

Practice times for me aren't given up easily. As instructor, student and former competitor, I appreciate full-well the value of high-quality practice as the life-blood of expertise. Yesterday I did just that because, sometimes, there are things that are more important.

Since Laloma's founding a question has hung unanswered, "How is Conjunto Laloma different from 4 de Diciembre?" It's to be expected really, since the five of us: Ana (bass, vocals), Catie (flutes), Jan (violin), Jeremy (tres, vocals) and myself (guitar, vocals) have been, or are still, members of 4de12. Thinking on it, I've got a pretty good bead on how the question came about.

{ Fade back to the past... }

When we started mid-November last year, I was absorbed in the mechanics of resolving scheduling conflicts, constructing a skills and repertoire development programme for the group, and personally coming to grips with an unfamiliar instrument. My background as an educator unabashedly informed the planning; a key concept of which was the quickest route to the State of Independence (see 'Teaching & Salsa').

I defined the State of Independence for Conjunto Laloma as being a short set of six numbers to performance standard; the idea being that there would be enough variety for the practice sessions, substance for a slot at festivals, and context to acquire a strong feel for Cuban music. The provisional songs were to be: Yo soy el sonero, Tributo al son, El tambor, Chan Chan, El carretero, and Monton de estrellas. With all of them having been played by Cuatro de Diciembre at some point in the past, and the first three currently on its playlist, getting to independence would have taken maybe eight weeks.

Luckily there came Christmas.

The break, as it turns out, through creativity and practice in an alternate context (see previous salsa blog posts), harboured the perfect conditions for stimulating a rethink.

Things began as an imperfect enthusiasm on the guitar - where although everything felt alright going through the guajeos of each song, it felt just... well... alright. It wasn't like, "hey! I'm really fired up about playing and learning new stuff!" Inspiration is a more vital key to learning than the State of Independence. It stood to reason that the latter had been built on an unsafe premise, and that I needed to pierce its veil for there to be life in the project long-term.

What is more, I kept finding myself drawn to songs not on the immediate shortlist: Son de la Loma and Lágrimas negras by Trío Matamoros; and Ya lo sé by Calle Real. I was snagged by an uncomfortable doubt: "Was it me being a spoilt brat?" "Was I reaching out for somethings else because they were new and shiny, and putting my wants ahead of the band's needs?"

The subconscious always has something valuable to say, be it softly spoken. I took care to listen.

I thought about the songs that had me intrigued. Why were they such Sirens? It was then that I realised my mistake, it was Thought. The three of them spoke of the Feel of Laloma in all of fresh spring-water's clarity: the State of Independence should have been about Identity, not Preparation. It should have been the answer to, "What is the most compact collection of songs capable of expressing, to the listener, the Essence of Laloma?"

{ Fade to the present }

I have it now... six songs to answer that question. That's why I forwent a valuable practice session so as to share this vision with my bandmates: Chan Chan (Buena Vista Social Club); Lágrimas Negras (Trio Matamoros); Ya Lo Sé (Calle Real); Monton de Estrellas (Polo Montañez); Son de la Loma (Trio Matamoros); and American Sueño (La Excelencia). Actually, I went a bit beyond that the minimum and projected down the line to a possible 14 songs.

The guys I play with are good, very good. And they're motivated self-starters who perform best with more information, not less. I selected cover versions over our originals for the opportunity to learn from the artistry of others; it was something that Ana particularly felt strong about. Originals are a sure way of establishing an unique identity, but I feel that having to reinterpret those beautiful covers as a charanga-based acoustic line-up will, nonetheless, go a long way to doing that.

They're all on board. Jan spoke for us all when he said that he liked the whole collection, albeit more than others. He's honest to a fault, which is something I'd like to believe we all have in common.

Experience of the tension between Identity and Preparation has been valuable to me in many more ways than one. I took it dancing the other night and watched it move about the hall. But that, I'll leave until the next post. In the meanwhile, a truer vision has already done what it was meant to - chart a more enchanting course with a surer hand.

Some sacrifices were meant to be made.

Loo Yen

La Excelencia's Fundamento

I think you could forgive me for being a mite dubious when a newsletter plopped itself on my electronic doorstep, proclaiming that "Mi Tumbao Social" was going to be the best salsa release of 2009. January wasn't even halfway done with itself yet!

I harrumphed like a disdainful elephant, eyeing skeptically the etchings in the 'Source of All Temptations' as delivered by Bruce Polin and the guys at Descarga. This particular review had been written by Pablo Yglesias, whose tastes I'd not had enough of a handle on yet (mine generally agree with Bruce's and agree-to-disagree with Peter Watrous').

Nevertheless, still delirious from my Epicurean success in a Szechuan restaurant involving "Strange Tasting Rabbit", I charged at the red rag and added La Excelencia's second album to my shopping cart. Then I forgot all about it until it surprised me out of the package three weeks after.

©Copyright 2009 La Excelencia. All Rights Acknowledged.

"Let's do this!" I thought to myself as I hit the play button on my iPOD. It was the shortest journey home I'd had in a long, long time; so absorbed was I in the music.

Straight off the bat I knew that La Excelencia had used old-school recording styles: I'd had to fiddle more than usual to get a suitable volume setting, which meant that they'd used less compression in the production. Put another way, their sounds were more dynamic i.e. greater distance between softs and louds: where softs were properly softer, and louds were loud. In the first passes, I listened simply to the melody, rhythm and arrangements, utterly captivated. My ears had to be prised away to give the lyrics their due attention, but they were delighted to have been made to yield. At last here were lyrics of true substance.

During Cuatro de Dicembre practice that night, I put it on the stereo and we listened to it all. Actually we played along to it all... the whole CD; and we did it again the next week. This was the first time every one of us loved everything on an album, and given how diverse Decemberists are in taste and background, it's a miracle.

It's been a month and the dial still returns to "Mi Tumbao Social" after sojourns with recent releases.

La Excelencia's approach is evocative of the early age of Fania - a time when salsa musicians were impassioned with creative hunger. You can hear their youth in every stroke, their drive, their passion. I'm entirely seduced by their artistic integrity - every cut on the album was written in fulfillment of a creative need, not with an eye to sales (that's what all of 4de12 picked up on). Ironically this may prove, distribution willing, to be its unintended advantage.

When Spanish Harlem Orchestra debuted, the refreshing manner with which their tracks were selected and recorded, in part stimulated a resurgence of salsa dura. "Mi Tumbao Social" has the same potential to inspire a return to the core values that made salsa relevant: social commentary that the listener can relate to, from the chirpy "Deja de Criticar" to the darkly profound "American Sueño". And speaking of it, the latter is an object lesson in how to take a traditional Cuban form like the güajira and transform it into a resident of perhaps New York City.

La Excelencia haven't shied away from their African roots, instead they've actively embraced them. The way they use the skins tells the listener that this band aren't in the business of paying formulaic lip-service to percussion; and yet their poise is perfectly counterpointed by brass whose brashness follow in the best of New York's traditions. Every cut's a winner and "Mi Tumbao Social" is a now permanent member of my DJ collection.

I would normally sum up now, but I think La Excelencia have done it better with "Aña Pa' Mi Tambor": the sentiment, the composition, the execution, are all right on the mark.

Listen to it. You'll understand.

Loo Yeo

The Boogaloo by José María Bustos. (Part 2)

A LITTLE MORE ON THE EVOLUTION OF THE BOOGALOO.

During the early sixties there was any number of influences on the music of the time (no pun intended). But the most significant (or so I believe) was the advancement of Black America and the black power movement. With this evolution of black America came the motto, ‘say it loud, I’m black and I’m proud’. And through out Black Harlem and Spanish Harlem there was this new sense of power which was fueled by white and many black Americans awaking to the great contributions by Black American writers, artists, dancers, scientist and the power they had in numbers.

At this moment in American history the ties between Black Americans and Latino Americans was perhaps one of the strongest ever, as we all had a common enemy which could just simply be summoned up as ‘the man’. Latino American’s with their afro Cuban roots felt compelled by black causes and thus there was a large cultural exchange.

In places like Smalls café in Harlem and well as on campuses of universities such as Penn state and other universities with large black populations pledge groups like ‘The Featherman’ were enjoying unprecedented numbers and part of the pledge groups activities were dance sessions and parties were the ‘call backs’ were created almost like marching chants. It’s in my sneaker! Oh yeah! A bag of reefer! Oh yeah! It’s in my nose! Oh yeah! Some gypsy rose! Oh yeah! Its on the roof, Oh yeah! 100% proof, oh yeah! And on and on……

So, these ‘call back’s found their way into the ‘Smalls’ of Harlem and also into the cellar clubs, which were popular at the time, these were just a cleaned out cellar in an old tenement building with a few colored lights and a bar. Once such notable club was run by a then young and extremely attractive upper class black women from the affluent queens neighborhood known as Saint Albans, her name was Betty White. Her cellar club on the west side on New York City became one of the most popular of the time and all night long the then new dance crazes of the black community were danced in frenzy. Dances such as the ‘Boogaloo’ and its sister dance called the ‘Shing Ga Ling’ while the entire group shouted out the call backs with Betty leading the cheers. Often times these dances were executed in the form of a line dance.

A side note to this is that the incredibly beautiful Betty White soon became Mrs. Miles Davis!

I think its also important to mention that popular black music of the time was being listened to throughout the Eastern Sea Board from a then young, NYC DJ named Frankie Crocker on station WWRL from Harlem NY who coined the term “sock it to me” and used some of these call backs during his sessions on the radio.

To bring it all back to salsa music, many of us who at the time enjoyed the best of both the black community and the Latin community discovered that the “call backs” and line dancing lent themselves strongly to a cha cha beat, so it was only natural that at the regular weekend parties at the Embassy ballroom where Joe Cuba played quite regularly and Basin street East where Richie Ray played regularly the “call backs and the line dancing” worked their way onto the dance floor. Joe Cuba was perhaps the first to pick up on it and begin to incorporate the beat and the calls backs into his music i.e. 'Oh! Yeah!' From the album ‘Bang Bang, Push Push'.

Post Joe Cuba’s boogaloo perhaps the second most successful band at the time to play Boogaloo was Ricardo Ray.

But there was a group of young and upcoming musicians such as Johnny Colón (who was at the time dating my sister) and a young neighborhood rebel who was trying his hand at the salsa thing named Joe Bataan who would soon make their mark on boogaloo forever.

- Copyright©2009 José María Bustos. All rights reserved.

[The ideas and opinions expressed above remain solely those of the author.]

Preface: The Boogaloo. José María Bustos. (Part 1)

DJ Bosco is THE purple patch
at the Singapore International Salsa Festival
©Copyright 2008 José María Bustos. All Rights Acknowledged.

A long-distance partner-in-crime, more affectionately known as Bosco, messaged me just the other day. Technology was having him in a Half-Nelson and keeping him from posting up an article he'd put together on the boogaloo. I tagged-teamed him right back listing a number of break-holds that he might deploy to counter the PC of Inestimable Evil; one of which was an offer to post the article here in salsadiary on his behalf. Bosco went for it, escaped, and quickly made off to Langkawi for a gig.

So this is it. My promise to him.

But instead of putting it up 'cold', I felt that it would only be right to put a preface it. I don't often put up articles from other people ...come to think of it, this would be the first external contribution to this salsa blog. But somehow it's appropriate that it should come from Bosco.

Bosco and I were introduced to each other in a professional setting several years ago; we were both qualifying a promising business opportunity while I was back in Singapore on Verdant's behalf. At the close of our very first meeting, it transpired that we had something very deeply in common - our need for salsa. Our families have gone on to become good friends.

And since time, in his guise as DJ Bosco, José María has established himself as THE leading killer on the decks of the Asian salsa scene.

I don't say that lightly - I enjoy his choice of music as much as I have that of Henry Knowles or Mauricio Reyes. I'd wager that much of that sensitivity is drawn from his experience as a participant observer during salsa's golden era in New York, an asset few DJs worldwide can have claim to.

On that last count, I'll let a selection of excerpts from his biography do the talking:

"He was also a member of... the ‘Copacetic Dragons’ of which Boogaloo band leader, ‘Joe Bataan’ was a starting member of the senior division known only as ‘The Dragons’. His sister was dating an up and coming salsa trombonist known as ‘Johnny Colon’ and DJ Bosco was busy lending support to his neighborhood friend George Rodriquez (vibes), Eddie Muniz (percussion) and the late Luis Bonilla (congas) who were starting a group they called ‘The New Swing Sextet’ which is still one of his favorite bands today and recently released a killer album.

"At the age of twelve DJ Bosco talked his way into a Salsa Sunday afternoon dance hall party at Colgate Gardens by convincing the legendary Barry Rogers (of Eddie Palmieri band fame) to allow him to carry his trombone into the dance hall.

"By the age of 16 DJ Bosco was a regular at all of New York’s dance halls such as the Embassy Ballrooms, The Palladium, Basin Street East (which featured Richie Ray and Orchestra Broadway) as well as The Hunts Point Place, the club where the top musicians would go after hours (beginning at 3 a.m.) for impromptu jam sessions from which the Allegre All Stars emerged, and eventually evolved into the Fania All Stars.

"...he befriended one of the great Latin Jazz Giants and his brother - Gerry and Andy Gonzales of Fort Apache Band fame and who have gone on to play with many of the great bands of the times.

"DJ Bosco believes much of his popularity is do to these early experiences, understanding, memories and friendships with many of the top musicians of that time"

- Copyright©2008 José María Bustos. All rights reserved.

Spending time with José María is a joy, whose vivid recollections of THE iconic era are an invaluable window through time - all brought to life by his music. Bosco, with or without his DJ hat on, is an artist, a gentleman and a scholar.

Bosco> There goes all your street cred with that last line, 'mano!

(On to Part Two.)

Loo Yen

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

Bongolicious Booty

After an Odyssean saga which involved:

• a Trickster (Royal Mail postie),
• a Scylla (Royal Mail's Website of ultimate deflection),
• a Charybdis (Royal Mail's Telephone System of spiraling circuitousness),
• drachmae (my trusty credit card), and
• a lovely Cassandra (Royal Mail customer service lass with mucho Gaelic charm),

the great Hero (Me!) bested the intractable Poseidon (Royal Mail) to claim his prize: a priceless set of bongó books and DVD by Trevor Salloum. Cue the Orgy and the dancing girls.

The next day, still drunk from success, I made plans to enjoy my deserved spoils over the weekend. Followers of this beloved blog might just be wondering whether I've finally turned in a couple of sandwiches short of a full picnic. As if guitar, vocals, congas and two bands plus the dance-floor menacings aren't enough, Loo's going for bongó as well? ¿Qué?

It's hard to rationalise it from an instrument perspective, so I'll not go there; rather, it's the skills that playing bongó can develop that I'm after.

Since 'The Great Songo Breakthrough of 2009' (see previous posts), my conga-playing's been blessed with fertile new pastures of rhythmic space and plenty of cognitive overhead with which to do the seeding. As a result I'd already started to cultivate little fills and accents, tasteful ones might I add, to give my music that bit more sabor. But I found that ferreting around for little snatches of examples in songs, whilst educative to some extent, lacked an overall coherence. And I'm a big fan of coherence.

That's when I thought, "what about the bongó; that oft-overlooked virtuoso instrument born precisely to lead, fill and solo?"

It ticked ALL the right boxes straight away:

1. one of its basic rhythmic interpretations the martillo, is similar to a caballo on the conga, both of which I needed more practice of and their near-infinite variations;
2. Conjunto Laloma would have more musical avenues to explore if there was a bongosero in da house;
3. friends have been wanting me to guide them around those skins for a long time;
4. it would expand my ear-training workshop to address música de guitarra forms like son, bolero and bachata;
5. it would support another of my workshops on dance movement improvisations;
   
6. and most important of all, it's an instrument I've been ashamed I wasn't better on.

For the two days past, Mr. Salloum's voice has wafted forth from the telly; patiently teaching me the arcane bongo-arts even as his fingers seemed cheekily to mock mine. I'd possessed his manuals before and in part of my hard-won booty were replacements for things lent and ne'er returned. Saturday and Sunday were graced with a comforting sense of déjà vu as my eyes, hands and ears remade their acquaintances with the drum.

I don't yet know how my return to Ithaca (bongoland) will be received, but no doubt the jeers of frustration will have to be silenced by the wine of success for there to be a happily ever after. I'm a bigger fan of happy.

Loo Yen Yeo

P.S. A review of Trevor Salloum's work will follow later.

Kinesthetics, Neurolinguistics & Pictures

To add pictures or not, that's been the question.

One part of me has wanted to let the words speak for themselves - in much the same way as a novel leaves it up to one's creative mind to conjure up the imagery; certainly only a rare handful of visual adaptations have ever been able to match the books that have been played out in my mind's eye. I've felt that maybe the inclusion of a picture might unnecessarily harden a reader's imaging of a post. But then, by not doing so, I'm tilting things towards people like me.

I should explain.

It comes from a sports coaching course I did some time back which featured a large Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) component. That was when I learned that I was not as visually-driven as most. One of the early exercises involved a crude categorisation of which senses an individual preferred to use, and went like this:

1. Think of a loved one
   
2. What is the very first impression you have of her/him?
   Is it the way (s)he looks, sounds, smells, or feels?
3. What is the second impression you have of her/him?
   Is it the way (s)he looks, sounds, smells, or feels?

The first is your primary sense. The second is your preferred sense. I discovered my primary to be auditory and my preferred to be kinesthetic (touch/taste) i.e. I heard them first and then remembered how they felt to the touch. The visual image of them established itself later.

Neurolinguistics sheds an analytical gaze on the instruction of salsa and the assimilation of practices. For example, as the majority of people have the visual sense as their primary or preferred, phrases biased towards the sense of sight like "picture this" and "see what I mean?" effectively address most class attendees but overlook a specific minority. Likewise, people like myself benefit from unsighted lead-follow drills better than our visual counterparts, developing kinesthetic skills more quickly.

What I learned from the advanced coaching sessions caused me to re-evaluate and rewrite my "Teaching & Salsa" training manual, using sense-neutral terms in the main and sense-specific terms where they were best suited: the premise being that it should be as useful to the broadest range of educators. (I deployed a spread of sense terms during the opening of this post as a demonstration.) NLP has made me much more aware of the language of expression I, as an educator, should choose to use in class.

Back to the subject of pictures.

I wonder if my ambivalence to having graphical images on this salsa blog simply stems from my personal lack of requirement for it - my imagination is happy to rampage about freely; it would probably disregard a photograph as a tether. But having read Darren Rowse's blog and associated comments, I think I should. And I feel I will.

Loo Yeo

25th January 2009 Barrio Latino @Platillos, Leopold Square, Sheffield

(aka. A Winston-Flavoured Salsa Lesson)

It was a bit of a mad dash yesterday. I raced back from this nation's capital barely in time to make it for the last of three taster salsa lessons which had been running weekly in Sheffield's newest salsa night 'Barrio Latino' in Platillos. The previous two I had contrived to miss through a conspiracy of circumstance, and I would not to be foiled again (even if it meant getting out and manually locomoting East Mainline's ageing locomotive).

I walked briskly into the newly revamped and swanky Leopold Square, smack-bang in Sheffield's city centre, and a medium-sized stone's throw away from the veteran Bar Cubana - past the eateries and purveyors of libations which were standing forlornly empty. It was Sunday night and the Square, packed to the gunnels on Fridays and Saturdays, felt as if tired from its exertions.

Platillos is a well-appointed establishment: a bar downstairs and a tapas restaurant upstairs. Entering the lower floor, I encountered a rectangular room with stairs upwards on one side, a bar on the opposite side, DJ booth at the far end, and seating along most of the periphery. The unsprung wooden floor which would have been a tight squeeze for thirty-plus dancing couples, was interjected with two structural columns. The decor is warm and plush; a perfect small venue for a salsa night.

Rob's grin was there to greet me and coax my details onto his organiser's mailing list. We made our first-time acquaintances (he'd heard of me via Facebook apparently) with amiable chatter as I fished out my taster dues - the lesson had been billed as "New York-style" salsa; a mode I'd not revisited in the better part of a decade. What-is-more, the charismatic Winston Mitchell, friend and pillar of the salsa community was doing the teaching. I'd never had a Winston-flavoured salsa lesson before, so I was very much looking forward to this.

Spying him in the far corner, I snuck up to say "hello" and to extort him into accepting a beer using the good ole, "we gotta keep the bar happy to keep the venue ticking over" thrust. He countered with the reliably effective, "you're good, you shouldn't be doing this class"; which I deflected with the philosophical "one's basics can't be too strong" manoeuvre. The riposte he was gathering was beginning to look mighty when, as luck would have it, the exchange was blunted by the appearance of a Winston-fan. I hid behind the decoy and made good my escape.

Winston's lesson was co-taught by Sophie, and structurally contained a bit of everything as all tasters should: basic steps, a short combination with turns evenly distributed across both gender roles, a simple shine, technical pointers, and a bit of styling. It was ably presented with the setting of achieveable goals, and the class was split on the odd occasion as Sophie went through the women's part whilst Winston the men's. The learning atmosphere reminded me very much of Ces and Kerry's (of LatinXces) manner where a patient, easy approach is the hallmark.

If I had been tasked with designing a single-hour taster of NY salsa, it would have borne a similar form.

I had heard from some salseros that they thought Winston's pacing was a little slow. I now I understand why. The perception is based on a comparison with some other instructors who cram their hour with one combination, packed wall-to-wall with turn elements. Like proverbial sardines in a can. Winston on the other hand, resisted the temptation and opted for a short, balanced combination; and used the available time to explain fundamental technical details AND allow sufficient practice of the component parts. It was clear he was after quality.

Next week he and Sophie begin a six-week course. I'm sure that they've already begun addressing their vocal projection (the room is not acoustically kind to an instructor's voice), and will continue to accumulate their range of teaching metaphors. And as experience lends them more polish, I have no doubt that calls for them will increase in volume. NY salsa has stylistically changed since I last was a beginner, and would myself have signed up for its duration had it not been for commitments to Conjunto Laloma. I cannot give a more honest recommendation.

The normally interminable wait between the end of a lesson and the full pace of social salsa didn't happen. Whilst I blinked, Platillos filled up; and suddenly there was pedal-to-the-metal dancing. Ana, Rob's partner-in-crime, was on the decks playing modern dancefloor favourites. As a DJ she set up a strong party atmosphere like in Manchester's long-running Copacabana, mixing it up salsa with merengue, bachata, reggaeton and kizomba. Everyone: the Kenyans, Brits, Angolans, Spanish, Asians, Latins, ate it up - I waited for zouk to come on as the kitchen sink.

...denied...

It was all hot, sweaty fun. But sadly I can't feature a full review, as I had to make an early exit.

'Barrio Latino' is still very much in its birthing phase: enjoying the euphoria of being young, new, and the rapidly escalating success that that conveys. It has all the right ingredients for success: welcoming hosts, a dynamic energy, strong instructors, a crowd-aware DJ, a tremendous amount of goodwill and a clientèle who appreciate that the bar needs to be fed well for the night to prosper.

Whether it can sustain itself to become an established favourite? It's too early to tell. In Winston and Sophie are instructors more than capable of introducing newcomers to salsa and growing the base. The hardest part will be in keeping the product vital; by avoiding the attentions of Complacency in the format - especially in music policy. To the protagonists of 'Barrio Latino' I say,

"It's there for the taking."

Loo

12th Night Extravaganza 2009. Saturday & Sunday (Part 3)

My eyes drifted open to the world knowing that Saturday was going to be a day of little respite.

My feet, happily worn from last night's revelry, were probably going to be disconsolate by lunch and downright rebellious by dinner. And yet there had to be enough in the tank for a truly heroic run at the evening party, plus a little left in reserve to be amongst the last to leave with Tony and Mary. An itch of anticipation seeped in with my duvet's warmth tinged, dare I say it, with a hint of dread. Age is a cruel mistress.

But I've also found that she can be distracted with a nice cup of tea and a hot shower. With Age rubbernecking, I packed up and stepped out into the morning frost, returning my keycard to the porters at the lodge, joshing with them about the quality of institution food, and wending my way to an uncertain cooked breakfast. I discovered it to be strangely reassuring that bacon, sausage, beans and egg are universally constant across all university canteens be it Bath, Reading, Sheffield, Stirling and in this case, York. Nostalgia aside, breakfast times at congresses are valuable opportunities to meet fellow delegates; where I try to get in early and take it at as leisurely a pace as possible. Alejandro, Bill and Jimmy of Palenke were just finishing up and braving the cold to sight-see York. I settled down with a group of, as it turns out, very itinerant salseros based on the other side of the Pennines who were busily mapping out their day through the workshop programme.

Bridge over duck-rink: all roads lead to salsa
(as they all should do)

Returning to the Roger Kirk Centre, the nerve plexus of 12th Night, Mary took up my offer of help by tasking me with remedial teaching at the more fundamental workshops. The first workshop I chose was, with his permission, Bill Newby's tango argentino class where the gender imbalance seemed greatest. It was gently and patiently delivered in Bill's typically warm manner. And despite the difference between his salon and my orgullo style (which I masked), and his immaculate polish versus my red-raw rustiness, my partners clearly appreciated learning with an experienced hand.

But instead of indulging in a blow-by-blow account of each class, this year's 12th Night could be better summed up in one general observation and a number of personal highlights.

A General Observation

Social dance instruction in the UK remains largely driven by force of personality; and is a reflection of the need of its primary consumers, the middle classes with the expendable income, to be entertained. From a pedagogic perspective, few instructors demonstrate that they have identified and understood what they consider to be the pinnacles of their art, let alone mapped a clear development route to those summits for their students. The narrow educative knowledge-base results in two things that are readily apparent in congresses here and abroad:

1. confusion as to the different approaches that distinguish a class from a tutorial and a workshop; and
2. an impaired ability for instructors to act in concert through the meshing of their progressions - the learning contexts they establish are inflexibly individualised (to their personalities) instead of sharing a lingua franca of physical skills training.
   

[I note that there has been some movement by the United Kingdom Alliance (UKA) to certify salsa dance instructors. But having studied their syllabus (upon which their instructor examinations are based) at length, I see much description of vocabulary but little that is modern in the teaching of physical skills.]

Choice is the primary benefit at a congress, not threaded learning; and there was a smörgåsbord of it in York. As a generous estimate, thirty percent of sessions in 12th Night were roughly in workshop format; the remainder were vocabulary-based club classes. I see the latter as either: the instructor sticking to what (s)he knows how to do; or, just as likely, giving the attendees what they expect.

Having taught in the same shoes, I find that most attendees themselves are unable to distinguish between 'workshop' and 'class', treating both as the latter; and that I have to bill a workshop as a 'masterclass' in order to create the correct mindset.

Some Personal Highlights

• Lunchtime with Adriana where amongst the things we talked about was: how she still remembers our first dance together ten-plus years ago in Sheffield, and having her compliment my bachata as "dangerous";
• Steve Carter & Encuentro Latino's take on musical interpretation, and their really handy mnemonic for cáscara i.e. "I don't like carrots, I like potatoes";
  
• Lisandro's happy memories of Palenke's stint in Jakarta (near my neck of the woods), and his penchant for the food;
  
• A talk post-dinner with timbalero Jimmy Le Messurier and trombonist Paul Taylor about their recordings and the music industry;
• Bill and Jaime's emotionally charged tango argentino demonstration;
  
• Dancing boogaloo Colombian-style with Adriana;
• Salsa, chachachá, bachata, and decidedly post-watershed merengue & reggaeton with some normally-very-nice people ("clean" is for whimps!);
• Getting to know Tony and Mary better and meeting their house-guests Tony and Sarah. Two lasting memories: Mary and Sarah breathless from laughter from my rosé champagne-fuelled antics, and the two Tonys behaving badly in the kitchen until dangerously close to the daylight hours;
• The decadence of dancing on a lazy Sunday afternoon; and
  
• Two fabulous tango-tinged bachatas with Maria.

The Ultimate Decadence awaits the truly hard-of-core:
dancing on a lazy Sunday afternoon

It was over a lazy mid-morning breakfast, as we were both desperately caffeinating, when fellow (ex)Steel City dweller Caroline offered me a lift. I jumped at the chance to indulge in her company and to eschew the anonymous silence of the train. We left 12th Night in the mid-afternoon dusk, on the squally journey South.

A leisurely dinner together at one favourite Bengali restaurant was my way of repaying the compliment. It was the best manner in which to round off a perfect weekend of reconnection.

Yeo Loo Yen