Timbale Landmark - The First State of Independence

Last night's band practice marked the passing of a huge milestone. It was the first time I was able to cue the transitions with the abanico, play cáscara and clave (either flavour) in the pre-montuno, timbale bell and clave in the montuno AND sing lead vocals at the same time.

I know it's taken a little longer than anticipated but I think I can justify it, what with having so many projects going on at the same time, and give myself a wee pat on the back. So what next? The most immediate is being able to play bongó bell (left hand) and timbale bell (right) whilst singing. Having just practiced it for a couple of hours just now, I can do it already... minus the singing.

After that, it's sorting out how to play the maraca and güiro rhythm on the hi-hats a la Mike Collazo; then with cáscara, then plus singing.

In the meanwhile Catie has been keen to add congas to her arsenal of musical instruments; and this is a fantastic opportunity to explore rhythmic movements together - like mozambique and songo. Plus I'm sure there'll be a healthy amount of 'chop-building' ahead.

My dance partners, old and new, are very much aware of these developments even if they don't exactly know why. As I said to Emma the other night, 'It's a shame to have so many rhythms playing and to use only one'.

Loo

24th November 2011 Son Para Todos @Revolución de Cuba, Sheffield

Son Para Todos is Sheffield's own working salsa band. Originally conceived as a duo: Rodrigo Paredes (vocals, guitar) and Armando Murillo (percussion, coro), its line-up has stabilised over the years to include an additional keyboard, second guitar and trumpet. They work hard to earn a living off their playing, that's what I mean about a 'working' band, lugging their instruments and their PA around in car boots to deliver music in restaurants, bars, and the odd special event.

Respect. This is the grind of what Nuyoricans would call the cuchifrito circuit. I understand the decisions they have to, and are willing to, make in order to bring a touch of Latin American zing to Sheffield's night life.

For years, they've held a once weekly residency at Cubana where they played Cubanesque standards such as 'El Cuarto de Tula' and 'Montón de Estrellas'. Then Inventive Leisure decided to diversify to include rum-based drinks and launched its Revolución de Cuba chain, opening a branch in Sheffield's city centre a salsa song's walk from Cubana - the fit-out has been superb, and the balance of drinks on offer very well-judged.

And so it transpires that Son Para Todos now have three residency slots, playing twice weekly in Revolución de Cuba on Thursday and Friday nights as well.

A wee slice of fantasy Cuba on Mappin Street

I turned up to listen and to get a vibe of the place on Thursday evening. The bar was humming with activity from the beginning of their first set at about 8pm. The hubbub continued its crescendo even when the final strains of their third set faded at 10:30 and Stephen 'DJ Gordo Mágico' Jackson worked the decks.

Chatting with Armando over a mojito, I said that I'd noticed that there were new numbers in their repertoire, mainly at chachachá /son montuno tempo from the Latin Crossover pocket (think Santana), salsafied pop, and some reggae. He gave a wry smile, gestured to the crowd, and said that they'd had to expand and diversify their selection, what with having to play longer and on two consecutive evenings. I told Armando that I thought Son Para Todos had made the right decision - I know plenty of salsa bandleaders who would sneer at playing this mix, but these are ones who have the luxury of not having to perform for a living.

Actually I think that Son Para Todos are being true to their name - bringing the experience of son and its children to everyone - and playing the key role of cultural mediator. And they do so deftly and with aplomb. Cultural mediators are necessary. They are the conduits by which the salsa scene is (Re)energised and (Re)vitalised. A case in point being that when I popped in on Nicolai's lesson two days later: I stepped through Cubana's aged wooden doors to be greeted by two young English lads who introduced themselves to me as Chris and George. They were both there for their first salsa lesson after having been completely taken by the atmosphere at Revolución de Cuba, and I was recognised from there.

I would also confess that my first four Latin CDs were Gloria Estefan's 'Mi Tierra', Alfredo Gutiérrez's 'El Palito', Cheito Quiñones' eponymous album, and La Conexión's 'Conexión Latina'; of which Gloria's and Cheito's were my early favourites. As an ethnomusicologist of transnational genres, I understand the importance of crossover artists as cultural mediators, and am happy to say that Son Para Todos are as deft as they come.

Loo Yen Yeo

8th October 2011 Soweto Gospel Choir @Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield

"...and I'd like one for the Soweto Gospel Choir, too" I heard myself say.

I was standing in the sun-drenched box office of Sheffield's rather swanky Crucible Theatre. I could rationalise it as much as I'd like, for instance saying: "well, as an student of AfroCuban music, it's important to see its roots at the source", but the truth was that it was a momentary mugging by spontaneity.

I can only put it down to Rising Sap from the pseudo-Spring conditions teasing Yorkshire's autumn.

I expected beautiful rich tibreous voices in rhythmic harmony. My mind's eye painted an image of 'Songs of Praise' crossed with the deep South's Gospel. My mind's eye was agog seconds bars into the programme.

The twenty-strong men and women of the choir slipped onto stage in a vibrant kaleidoscope of colour, swaying and singing in undulating rhythm. Unlike their genre predecessors Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the presence of women in the ensemble endows the Soweto Gospel Choir with a greater vocal, harmonic, and timbrel range. It also extended the possibilities in programme presentation: very early on in the first set there was a piece sung by the ladies, followed straight after with another by the gentlemen - it was call-and-response achieved by gender.

Photograph Copyright © Waltons New School of Music.
All Rights Acknowledged.

Call-and-response was the overarching theme in their concert, and it was a full blown concert, of two sets: the first, a call of traditional and folkloric songs; the second, a response of more accessible contemporary numbers. The mix was well-judged, the very pleasant white middle-aged ballroom dancing couple occupying the seats beside me, Susan and Paul, clearly preferred the latter when they said "the concert just kept getting better and better". The hard-nosed musicologist inside me found the first set spine-tingling; it has been the only time, ever, that a musical performance has ever ilicited tears.

It was impassioned and committed unlike any performance I'd experienced before.

Within the choir were leaders and instrumentalists, some of them assuming the positions of bassist, pianist, guitarist, and percussionist (trapset or djembe). I was least prepared for the dancing - a joyous celebration of the music they create. Group, couple and virtuoso solo performances of physical movement, from which it was obvious where Cuba's rumba yambú, guaguancó and columbia were desecended.

Each and every one of the twenty women and men sang from their very essences, their voices a commitment to an absolute purpose. As a musician, it was my privilege to be humbled.

I can only sum up my Soweto Gospel experience with one word - Joy.

For Cubans and those partake of AfroCuban culture, from this choir there is much to be learned.

Loo Yeo

23rd September 2011 Palenke @SalsaWorks, The Engine Shed, Wetherby

Tony 'El Caballero' Piper understands how central the breaking of bread together is in creating strong social bonds. That's why he makes the run to his local supermarket twice weekly, to nab provisions for his salsa classes and his social evenings - it's an effort he makes that's over and above any other promoter I know.

So I'm perched at the breakfast bar of the Piper kitchen, scoffing one of Mary's cupcakes and watching the last batch of sausages emerge from the oven with a predatory eye. It's been a while since I was here last and I find the rhythm of this household to be refreshingly different. Already I've been Tony's grocery trolley dolly, a slicer and chopper, and packer of various comestibles; and as soon as my host's back is turned, those piping bangers are going to get a right menacing.
I'm staying over to enjoy one of my favourite salsa dance bands, Palenke, perform at the Engine Shed.

Palenke's Fernando, Adriana, Lisandro and Bill are the warmest characters you'll ever meet, and I surprise them side-stage just as they're about to soundcheck. We go back a long way. Smartly, the band provide their own PA, which means they can remain competitive with other ensembles who don't, and still being able to take home a more live-able wage. It's something well-established working bands do.

Both Tony and I feed back that the sound's a bit bright, so Fernando juggles the controls to tone down the migh-mids as the dancers begin to trickle in. SalsaWorks at the Engine Shed features a band on its programme once every six months. It's something they don't have to do (in fact they just about break even) but the team feel it's important to support live music otherwise "where would future recorded music come from?"

Palenke, giving it plenty @The Engine Shed

Alfredo and Christine take the intermediate salsa class on the main floor, while Tony leads the willing beginners (and one house guest) up to the smaller dance area. The theme of the 'beginner' lesson (as opposed to 'absolute beginner' of which there were none) is cross-body lead with "Titanic" variations, where us gents play Leonardo DiCaprio to the ladies' Kate Winslet with varying degrees of aplomb. Since these manoeuvres, though commonly found in the wild, aren't in my active dancing vocabulary, El Caballero's ship-encounters-iceberg hour made for a mischievous diversion.

Shortly afterward, the band struck up.

Palenke are in the midst of producing their second album. Strictly speaking, it's Lisandro who is its central custodian and midwife; he's always dreamt of having the band's album made in his home of Colombia and finally decided to take the plunge. Their two live sets featured numbers from the upcoming release, and if they're anything to go by, their production should be feature a cracking number of dancefloor-fillers.

There were signs, which only an experienced eye could glean, that the band weren't entirely comfortable with their foldback (i.e. onstage sound) during the first set - that's part of the risk with not having a dedicated live engineer - and as such I think Palenke delivered their second with more surety, with a well-judged mix of salsa, son montuno and bachata.

It's on past record how brilliant I feel Palenke are. That has not changed. They still reside at the pinnacle of salsa dance bands in the UK, and have been so for more than 20 years when others have been and gone. Dancing to them is a joy and a privilege, especially in a such a venue as the Engine Shed.

Basking in the warmth of their music and of dancing friends, this has been one lovely highlight to this year of salsa.

Loo Yeo

"La Lucha For Cuba" by Miguel A. De La Torre

Illustration Copyright © 2003 University of California Press Ltd. All Rights Acknowledged.

I was drawn to this book by its cover: a protester clutching a Cuban flag, a sash of cordon tape across his chest, being restrained by three concerned blue-clad police officers. It looked familiar somehow, and it turns out that it was an exilic Cuban protesting at the Los Van Van concert at the Miami Arena. I remembered watching the DVD of the concert which opened with scenes of the protest, and wondering why salsa - a phenomenon which sometimes sells itself on the basis of Latin American unity - inspired such fervent anger.

There was another reason; research into augmenting the History of Salsa on my website, with sections on Colombian, Venezuelan and Miami salsa.

The author, Miguel A. De La Torre, writes about Miami exilic Cubans' power geometry in the contexts of Dade County, the United States, and against Castro's Cuba. The work unmasks the structures of oppression  deployed by exilic Cubans to maintain their position of power; it is piercingly insightful, utterly convincing and written with relentless candour. He is a brave man. I can only imagine what he risked as an insider, in the publication of 'La Lucha'. Laura Pérez, Associate Professor of Ethnic Studies in University of California Berkley, regarded it as an "... extremely important, courageous and long overdue project about cubanidad...".

It is heavyweight, erudite, and yet personal. It is not light reading. But difficult endeavours, and their accounts shouldn't be. His writing is compact, succinct, heavily laden with meaning. I think the value of his commitment is best be revealed through some of his own words (In order to avoid misunderstandings due to my purely personal choice of excerpts, I strongly urge you to obtain a copy of the book to read them in the context as the author intended):

In his preface he observes, "My hatred for Fidel Castro has been ingrained in me since childhood."

And of the institutionalized racism he and his family encountered when they moved from Miami to Kentucky he says, "The day we moved, I woke up "white" in Miami, but that night in Louisville I went to sleep as a man of color. This experience illustrated that while in Miami, I benefited from the power and privilege obtained by Exilic Cubans, yet when I left Dade County, I suffered because I was seen as a Latino."

And for me, most importantly,

"The Cuban clergy was predominantly from Spain... trained during the Franco dictatorship and highly influenced by the bitter Spanish Civil War victory over communism."
"These priests transplanted the atmosphere of a religious crusade against communism from Spain to Cuba."
"The Cuban Revolution occurred before the churches in Latin America became radicalized by the Vatican II (1962-65)... which articulated the basic tenets of liberation theology." [page 27]

This was the 'a-ha' moment - all of a sudden, things made sense. It was worth the cost of the book for the value of page 27 alone.

'La Lucha for Cuba' has brought me to a cross-roads. Should I augment the history with a deeper analysis which would necessitate consideration of political (and hence polarising) influences? Or should I maintain the history's accessibility to all by side-stepping the controversies which lie at the very heart of salsa?

Perhaps there is a middle path, should Elegguá be kind enough to show me the way. Otherwise, my instinct tells me I should follow De La Torre's example, and trust my readers to know the price of the difference.

Yeo Loo Yen

M is for Metaphor

I've been working my way through Beard and Gloag's 'Musicology: The Key Concepts' (2005), using musicology as a lens through which to study dance. To be frank I've found the book a bit of a struggle, more due to the density of subject concepts than the writing style (see the review in a later post). But along the way, there's plenty of stimulus for thought. Take the opening section on the entry for 'Metaphor':

[Quote]

Metaphor is a concept that defines our relationship to music. For example, music cannot be said to be sad; rather, sadness is a quality that we may ascribe to it (Neubauer 1986, 151). Metaphor arises in all forms of discourse about music, even when, as in theory and analysis, it attempts to treat music as an autonomous object (see autonomy). Naomi Cumming has summarized metaphors about music as 'a projection onto sound of aspects of our own mentality' (Cumming 1994, 28). In a critical appraisal of Roger Scruton's discussion of ways in which metaphor has informed musical descriptions, Cumming comments:

If explanations of music commonly make it an 'intentional object' by treating it as the object of understanding, not as a thing which can be described 'in itself'... then references to qualities which derive from our own cognitive mechanisms rather than from any acoustic property of the music are bound to appear.

(ibid., 28)

[Unquote]

An aspect of the philosophical use of analogy is that confidence in validity of the comparison depends upon the level of similarity between the things being compared. Based on the Latin American concept of 'ritmo' which refers not only to rhythm in music also to its associated dance, we can derive these analogous statements of high confidence:

• Metaphor is a concept that defines our relationship to dance. For example, dance cannot be said to be 'hot'; rather, 'hotness' is a quality that we may ascribe to it
• Metaphors about dance (can be described) as a projection onto movement of aspects of our own mentality
• ...references to qualities which derive from our own cognitive mechanisms rather than from any kinesthetic property of the dance are bound to appear

Through this lens, we can pierce the marketing veil to look at underlying constructs and contradictions.

Of Hot and Hotness
A glance of the salsa dance listings in the United Kingdom is replete with terms like: fuego [fire], fever, heat, and spicy. The marketing implication is that one can be 'hot' like the constructed Latin American. However if we ascribe the property of 'hotness' to salsa, or at least the potential for it, then it leaves responsibility for achieving it in the hands (and bodies) of the interpreters.

'Hot' allows the engagement to be passive, just by participating in the activity renders the dancer 'hot'; whereas 'hotness' demands active engagement, requiring the conscious and continuous act of interpretation to realise potential. But as salsa is rendered here as a decontextualised activity, how much Latin American hotness should we expect to achieve?

Projections of our own mentality
In the content of our salsa lessons, move vocabulary vastly outweighs rhythmic strength demonstrating our cultural pursuit of the pinnacle at the expense of the fundamental. That our prevailing style skims across the surface of the floor instead of deriving a strong hip action off it, privileges the European roots over the African.

Qualitative references derived from cognitive mechanisms
The segregation of salsa communities into those brandishing salsa, mambo, contratiempo, On1 and On2 markers tell us that salsa is the being treated as an 'intentional object'. It causes us to ask the question, "what is the underlying intent?" driving the promotion of these markers.

And the next concept is 'Modernism'... Hmm...

Loo Yeo

Listening in Rome

"...a phasing effect with the very early reflections". One bit of sentence told me that Bob Katz works on a completely different plane altogether.

The thought of listening for this audio artefact had never troubled my mind; and even knowing what to listen for, I could only just make it out in the studios at home and at Red Tape. Having said that any feedback on Corazón Fugitivo's 'Rome Calling' mix would yield new and valuable information, this innocuous-looking snippet was a complete game-changer - telling me that I would have to send the salsa album to Florida for mixing as well as mastering.

That was the day before Rome.

I walked into the Auditorium della Discoteca di Stato on a wondrous Wednesday morning to be greeted by the lovely Andrea and Laura assisting none other than the flame-haired Mary Kent, author of "Salsa Talks". It was a great thing finally to meet and connect over salsa, as my attendeeship to "Bob 'Til You Drop" (BTYD) was being processed. Indeed, over the next three days I consider myself fortunate to have had so much of Mary and Bob's time to talk about things other than and including salsa dancing and music.

Loo... certified by Laura and Andrea

BTYD was a brain-melter of a workshop.

The early part of the morning dealt with ear-training; listening to several audiophile recordings and understanding how they were achieved. After the mid-morning break, it was into mastering software and workflow. Lunch was delish; an outside catering company had set up in the old courtyard with benches laden with classic Italian cuisine, and there we mingled - engineers, producers and musicians alike - under white canopies in the bright early summer sunlight. Then it was back into the fray to ruminate over the main tools of mastering and their effects. By the time those essentials were covered, space in the schedule for mix evaluations had run out.

If there were to be one slight regret, it would be that (frankly, all of us were hostages to the effects of saturation by then). It was more than compensated for by the company of warm, open, like-minded talents like Pierangelo, Federico and Samuel - musicians and audio experts in their own right.

Bobbin' 'til we were a'droppin'
(back, left to right) Pierangelo Troiano, Bob Katz, Federico Simonazzi
(front, left to right) Samuel Gaehwiler, Loo Yeo
Photograph courtesy of Mary Kent. All rights acknowledged.

Bob had kept up a lively, engaging patter throughout the day. It's not easy to run a full-dayer like that; his slight frame surely hid a deep well of stamina to draw upon. What I can say is that Mary and Bob hosted, presented, managed and delivered the workshop with not inconsiderable style. It is certainly one to go to again.

The next two days of 'Rome Calling' were more technically based on broadcasting and, despite being focussed on loudness normalisation as per European Broadcasting Union's Recommendation 128, had more than enough of the good stuff for the general producer and engineer. I came away with a feeling of being privileged to have engaged with unassuming people at the top of their game, the likes of Florian Camerer, George Massenburg, Thomas Lund, and Alessandro Travaglini. George especially, still communicates energy, enthusiasm, curiosity and wonder in all things to do with sound, music and people.

I have also an elevated respect for TC Electronics, headline sponsors and organisers of the 'Rome Calling' Audio Seminars, a company with so much class that it chose not to emblazon its presence in every nook and cranny. Instead, everyone from TC Electronics adopted understated roles of facilitators/advisors. Deserved plaudits go to them all.

And salsa still proved relevant to this entire context. Rome Calling affirmed several things. Foremost, a number of the demonstration pieces selected by Bob and George were Latin; in private conversation it sparked considerable interest when we discovered that it was an area I worked/played in. Afro-Cuban and Latin music has stature amongst the audio elite.

Just as invaluable was the chance to hear the personal story, about: why Mary embarked on "Salsa Talks" and how it resonates with my position with Víspera, and what she's working on now; Bob's insights into the remastering of the Fania back-catalog; and George's work with Cándido Camaro and Linda Ronstadt.

BTYD in the Eternal City.
Photograph courtesy of Mary Kent. All rights acknowledged.

Salsa is such a rich sustaining world that it's easy to be drawn in and become cloistered within it. Rome was a landmark event, to step out and to look back, and to savour it as appreciative outsiders do, if only for a short while.

Loo Yeo


For more about Loo's sojourn in Rome, visit the public photo album links (by Facebook) below:

• Rome Calling! (Part One)
• Rome Calling (Part Two)
• Rome Calling (Cittá del Vaticano)
• Rome Calling (Part Three - The Spectacular Sights)
• Rome Calling (Part Four - One More Story)
  

Corre Mi Corazón

That's it. The first mix of the first song of the album has just finished being uploaded to Digital Domain's site.

Three weeks ago I learned of a rare opportunity - there was going to be a gathering of the world's audio elite, respected audiophile and Grammy award-winning producers/engineers, in Rome to convocate a new broadcasting standard; one with the potential to change the way all music is produced and broadcast. Competition for places was always going to be keen, but a lightning spate of to-ing and fro-ing (plus maybe a wee bit of leverage with a UNESCO credential) committed me to a presence in the Eternal City.

Yet, there is more icing to this already jammy cake. It transpired that one of the speakers, Bob Katz, author of "Mastering Audio" and sonic guru at Digital Domain was conducting a full-day seminar the day before!

If anything, this was more important (if that's at all possible), since I'd earmarked Digital Domain as the likely Mastering house for 4 de Diciembre's CD, at a time even before Bob had been commissioned to re-Master much of Fania's back catalogue. It was the ideal chance to meet Mr.Katz beforehand; be taught audio mastering from a world authority; and, as a mix engineer, to learn what to do, and what not to do, so as to avoid painting a mastering engineer into a corner.

The unique selling point was modestly tucked away in the prose of the seminar programme. It simply said, "Bring your mixes for evaluation and to see how they might be mastered".

For me, this was the ultimate. If I were able to produce a final mix of any of the salsa band's songs, and if it was to be accepted for evaluation, I would have a chance to understand how the production could be improved before it faced mastering for real at Digital Domain. In other words, I could have two bites of the cherry. A most desirable thing.

But you have to be in it to win it, right?

Hence the relative silence of SalsaDiary. Ana's backing vocals and my congas were re-recorded for "Corazón Fugitivo", edited, mixed, re-mixed, and re-remixed. Since I'm also part of the Recording 2 Course currently underway at Red Tape Studios, I was able to evaluate the mix in an alternate professional environment.

I can honestly say that the mix I've just submitted to Bob is done to the absolute utmost of my ability. No excuses. That's crucial because any feedback Bob gives, any recommendations for improvement, will be completely novel. From one of the world's best. Learning can't get more pertinent than that.

For now, it's fingers crossed that "Corazón Fugitivo" will be among the chosen few. And not too long hence, I'll be leavin'..

...on a jet plane...

Yeo Loo Yen

Lead Vocals a la Middle-Side... done!

All lead vocal re-recordings are finally in the can.

The last one 'La Llamada de Ogún' [The Call of Ogún] got the Loo treatment on Thursday; and although there is one more tune, 'Jardín' [Garden], to record, that's yet in the writing stage so it's ostensibly time to move on.

Our rather large vocal 'redo' escapade was nosed on by Digital Domain's advice on preparing tapes and files, particularly the "Gang of Four" stems. One of these stems is lead vocals only (with its reverb), which plainly means no hiding place in regard of performance, technique and engineering. All the tracks, not only my own, must withstand the close scrutiny of one of the world's foremost mastering engineers; and what I did not want, was to find myself in his mastering suite, without something to be proud of. Since there were inherent flaws in the previous engineering, Dave (our new man at the controls) and I have had to start anew.

Middle and Side. Go on... you know you want to!

(Neumann TLM 103 for the middle, and
AKG C 414 B-XLS on the side)

And this singer's having to scoff humble pie.

I used to think that pop singers were poor singers because they relied on composited vocals, and here I find myself doing the same thing. But before you judge me as harshly, there are two pretty big things in my defense:

• auto-tune does not exist in this project, and
• each take is non-identical as regards musical interpretation.

The second point has actually transformed the process of editing from one of potential tedium, into one of creativity, surprise and discovery - exploring the combinations on the route to building the best composite vocal has made a better lead singer. An additional improvement has come about with deploying the mid-side recording technique, which has gone a long way into allaying my fears (as a mix engineer) as to how to get the lead vocals to stand out in the dense mix that 4 de Diciembre's music presents.

Next on the list is to get Ana, Catie and Jeremy in to lay down the coro [backing vocals] using the same method. If things go really well, the results could be astounding. If not, there's always Plan B. And a Plan C...

Loo Yeo

The Challenge (Part Two)

After hearing scant word from the commissioning publishers I'd written for [see earlier post "The Challenge (Part One)"], I was somewhat surprised to hear from the lead editor, David, last November.

Reading in-between the lines, the publishing house had put itself through a phase of restructuring to face a toughening economic environment, and this particular project had gotten itself ensnared in that process. The wrought changes struck me as seismic with a near-complete replacement in editorial committee, and yet it seemed to have resulted in renewed energy - a new submission deadline for all work by contributors was set for the end of March.

I reckoned that the deadline wasn't a big deal: my entry was already in, approved, and the contract signed. I was safe. As a matter of fact, a tight deadline meant earlier publication.

Silly puppy.

David yanked away my security blanket; he asked me if I would consider re-writing. Now normally, one expects to do a little fine-tuning (although not post-approval) and I don't mind putting pen to more paper to make a better article. But this was a completely different kettle of fish: the original brief required an international slant but the editors, realising that there was an definite space on salsa in South America to be filled, felt that adjustments to my entry could address that gap and yet retain the global outlook. They estimated the article as being already 80% of the way there.

In effect, this was a change of brief.

There were two considerations: the demands on time (bloggable activities plus those unconfessable); and the amount of effort required which, to complete a task, increases exponentially towards its conclusion. I estimated that the remaining 20% would require about half again the original amount of effort to complete the work.

In chess it's called "zugzwang" or compulsion to move - if I didn't, there was the possibility that all the work might be wasted; if I did, it would require more effort. Deep down, I couldn't help but wonder if this additional commitment would pay off in a publication; the first commission happened almost two years ago.

Three months, two additional books, a handful of DVDs, and several research papers later, the alterations [] to the original structure looked like this:

1. Introduction describing transnational salsa as a music and dance genre
   [primary emphasis on Caribbean and South American practices, secondary emphasis on non-indigenous practices];
2. Origins of the word, from flavour term to stylistic label
   [expansion to the debate as to whether salsa is a genre or not];
3. Properties of the music including the psychoacoustics for dance;
4. Structural elements of a 'typical' salsa song;
5. The five main schools of salsa performance with a comment on corroborating dance movement;
6. Historical perspective on the development of each school;
7. Other areas of production including the re-Africanization of salsa
   [section split into additional Caribbean and Extra-Caribbean sites of production, and expanded];
8. [Additional section - Major themes in salsa: gender, and Latin unity as a label marketing concept];
9. [Additional section - Patterns of salsa consumption between Latin and non-Latin communities];
   
10. [Additional section - Areas of relevant research]; and
    
11. References and recommended reading/listening/watching.
    

The re-write came in at five thousand words, two thousand more than the original. David had relaxed the word limit - actually he removed it altogether. I didn't realise what an important gesture that was until a day later, at a seminar by Peter LaPlaca, editor of Industrial Marketing Management. Editors of print journals are given an annual budget... in pages, not money; and the removal of a word count, well, is no trivial gesture.

The change in commission did consume the amount of effort estimated, but I think the entry is much stronger for the changes.

Now, it's back to waiting for word.

Loo Yeo

"The Book Of Salsa" by César Miguel Rondón. Translated from the Spanish, by F.R.Aparicio with J.White

Cover Illustration Copyright © 2008 J.T.Morrow. All Rights Acknowledged.

The original version has acquired near-mythic status as THE reference guide on the impact and development of salsa in the Caribbean with emphasis on Venezuela. This translated version finally makes this work accessible to the English-speaking audience.

Rondón's chronicle doesn't disappoint, providing a join-the-dots genealogy of salsa replete with interesting musical examples. His division of salsa into movements - the avante garde and matancerization; and by locale - salsa of the north (New York) and salsa of the south (Caribbean), are well argued; as his is take on the origin of gender narrative being guaperia, although his handling of the topic of sexism is far from deft.

The author's role in broadcast media placed him in prime position to witness and comment on salsa's impact on Venezuela: right from the very start as an imported music adopted by the urban underclasses facing censorship by the elite, through to Oscar D'León's productions for international consumption. His access to musicians and inclusion of interview material adds a much-needed counterpoint to the main narrative; I found Tite Curet Alonso's theory about love and the position of the bolero as being enriched by confrontation especially enlightening.

The storyteller is not above hyperbole and sensationalisation, and one would to well to remember that "The Book of Salsa" is no more than a personal account, and as such benefits (as above) and suffers (below) from all that that entails. It has instances of:

• absolutism - "those Cuban examples... were always isolated experiments that had no support from dancers and music fans"
• vague value judgement - "Lavoe did not (capitalize on the potential that Curet's lyrics)... show off through the montuno in new or creative ways"
• lack of detail - failing to clarify what he means by "mediocre arrangements" and what constitutes a good one
• blatant author filtering or poor editing - "however, for the purposes of this book, that does not matter much"
• getting out of his depth - weak knowledge of resident Cuban musicians; misrepresenting an artist as two separate ones e.g. Francisco Repilado and Compay Segundo, Manuel Licea and Puntillita; poor gender commentary
• poor internal consistency - "but those same nuances acquired a special, if negligible value" (under what conditions would something deemed special be also deemed negligible?)
• affectation - where he confesses that there are "other erudite books free from intellectual prejudices"
  

It is a credit to Mr.Rondón that despite its faults, his work remains important. It provides the salsa researcher with the precious gift of investigative direction; admittedly one which, due to shortcomings in its stringency and internal consistency, requires corroboration with other sources.

Loo Yen Yeo

"Stage Presence" by Jane Goodall

Illustration Copyright © 2008 Routledge. All Rights Acknowledged.

An academic study describing the titled phenomenon, "Stage Presence" largely documents and analyses the efforts of others who have sought to describe it, rather than pointing in directions as to how it might be developed. Consequently, it is a step further removed from the vital attribute - listening to and critiquing the thoughts of others, leaving the reader to deduce its contextual significance.

Stage Presence's discursive quality is that of movement in an ever-tightening spiral; of trying to identify something ephemeral by describing everything around that's subject to its influence - like astronomers witnessing the effect of a strong gravitational field through the distortion of light from surrounding stars.

What lends cohesion to the work is the thread of a timeline, from the ancient to the recent, where the expressions of stage presence were drawn from the scientific understandings of that epoch: mesmerising, magnetic, electric, radiant, dazzling. Indeed, Goodall sets out her stall in the introduction by describing the work as "an enquiry that breaks down the cultural dualisms of rationality and superstition, science and art."

The book is, at its very superstructure, a Chronicle of Rhetoric. Within that framework is located some very succinct definitions, such as the meaning of 'Star Quality'; analytical dissections, for example in the 'Definition of Parody'; and practical applications, like 'the management of energy in performance'.

Whilst there are numerous useful insights and ideas, and the author comes across best when talking about musicals, the effort becomes less convincing when Goodall strays from the aesthetic domain into the scientific; where her words are beguiling but lacking in rigour - "nature abhors a vacuum" neglects the largest known phenomenon in nature: Outer space.

At times, the author seems to grasp at straws:

[Quote]

"Why do ghosts, which the French call 'revenants' - those who return - come back to the places from which they are supposed to have departed, and how do they achieve the presence effect? This is a question with which scientists would have no patience but, with a little poetic licence, it helps to raise some other questions that are of the essence in an enquiry into stage presence." (Page 170)

[Unquote]

Yes, skepticism is an inherent part of a scientific philosophy which West inherited from the Greeks. But I contend that scientists would indeed entertain her question above, if there was preceding reproducible evidence that:

• ghosts did exist;
• the returners were one and the same as the departed, only transcendental;
• there was a quantifiable presence effect; and
• such presence effect was caused by ghosts.
  

In the next line, she asks the reader for an act of faith (in the form of poetic licence) in order to bridge a gap in logical argument in an enquiry.

I found the pseudoscience hard to swallow.

With any advanced material, it is encumbent on the reader to maintain a critical mindset to recognise personal truths. "Stage Presence" is no different. Indeed, I found the discourse on Dramatic Interpretation: the "use of repetition - verbal and melodic - to create variation, so that their unfolding is improvised line by line with a fresh interpretive attack" particularly relevant to the performance of salsa.

But it is in the analysis of John Cage's 'now moment' as "the vanishing point in time and space" that I found my personal nirvana. Coming as it did in the closing stages of the book, it vindicated my doggedness in seeing the book through to its end in the face of a scientist's umbrage.

It articulated clearly that which I'd experienced as, "a shift in consciousness resulting in break-through to some normally excluded dimension of experience" but had never been able to express personally in words. Understanding the distance Science has yet to cover, I would not attempt a logical explanation.

Stage Presence is a valuable endeavour whose riches require considerable effort by the reader to unlock. Those of a more scientific bent would have to exert themselves a little more in the suspension of their disbelief.

Loo Yeo

What Is Important?

I will be standing in front of the mics tonight, doing the same as I did last night.

After a decent spell of soul-searching and a heart-to-heart with friend, confidante and co-writer Ana, I've laid my timbale development on the sacrificial altar of Víspera. Playing the past evenings to the first cut-pass mixdowns has crystallised the realisation of how close the album is to finishing. And yet, with my vocals and congas being the first step of the critical path, the work could not proceed until I've done my part.

Ana understands how importantly the timbales feature potentially in the future of 4 de Diciembre; and she too, has made her fair share of sacrifices for the band. Over the snatched moment of her lunch, Ana expressed her preference, candidly and unburdened by expectation, for Vispera's progress to be at the fore.

I'd come nearly to the same conclusion; 'nearly' in that I was still looking for a way to have my cake and eat it. If I prioritised the recording of lead vocals, only a little effort would be needed to prepare for each song, and therefore the rate-limiting step would be the availability of Dave, my-partner-in-studio-crime, to work some magic with Cubase and press the record button. Practice times on timbales and congas (for the next recording step) could be arranged around these dates.

I sent Dave a speculative text and, bless him, he freed himself up yesterday and today in a busy run-up to Christmas. If things go well tonight, I'll have suitable final vocal takes to work on, to keep me from being a glassy-eyed, TV-swilling, Auld-Lang-Syne-singing lounge potato. In-between sessions on the drums, that is.

A timely reminder that in the midst of so much that can be done, determining what should be done can be resolved by digging deep and asking the question, "exactly what IS important?"

Loo Yeo

Doing The Hard Stuff

It feels as if everything that's happened over the past few years has culminated in preparing me for this one moment - taking on the challenge of being lead vocalist and timbalero at the same time.

If I were a believer in the Fates, I would say that it was their hands that had wrought it so, because all the key elements are in place:

• The Festive lull - unlike most households, the Christmas and New Year period is a relaxed, introspective period after the frenetic activity of late-November to early-December;
• The first cut pass of Víspera's songs have just been completed - the mixdowns provide the most context-accurate material to play to;
• Playing of the timbale ride patterns is on the verge of being naturalised - a sustained effort has freed up enough cognitive overhead to process vocals as well, resulting in three (possibly four) way independence - vocals, clave, shell or bell pattern (pulse marked with a foot);
• Compelling reasons for doing so - for the sake of the band, a timbalero adds more percussive weight to the ensemble, helps define the song's structure, and gives Whib our conguero someone closer to play off; for the sake of Víspera, I'll be having to lay down new and replacement timbale recordings.
  

The first stage of developmental independence is to be able to sing, play the rides and cue the transitions; with the target time being mid-January when band practice resumes. Having just done two evenings worth of solid practice, progress has been good using the cáscara, son clave in the context of one song, 'Hijos de Cam'. So much so, that 'Corazón Fugitivo' gets the cáscara and rumba clave treatment tonight.

Most of all, I'm curious and excited to find out what unexpected gifts this atypical-and-not-particularly-easy endeavour is going to do to my understanding of musicality and dancing.

Exciting times are happening right now!

Loo Yen

The Cut Pass

One of the first things a mixing engineer/arranger/producer does upon receiving and listening to audio from the recording engineer is a cut pass. In principle the idea is straight-forward: simply to cut out any material extraneous to the song. The actuality is anything but.

Deciding on what to leave out requires a firm sense of what constitutes the Essence of the song, as gleaned from the different voices of the people - the performers, the lyricists, the songwriters, and the producers - who've had a hand in its creation. For me, having assumed all four roles for Víspera, the cut pass has been at both times easy and difficult.

Its been easy because with the first lyrical melodies from the very start, a completed version of the song has lived in my mind. 'Completed' as I would have performed every part.

The challenge has been in loosening the Grip of Conviction sufficiently to listen, understand, appreciate, and weave a place for my peers' virutoso expressions; so that they augment the vision with their own understanding, making each work richer from the creativity of more than one. And so when it's come to the cut pass, a lot of the work has been emotional-intellectual: in reconciling what I understand the song to be as its songwriter-performer, with the ideas of my friends who've breathed it to greater life.

With my producer hat on, I'm conscious of not to riding rough-shod over 4 de Diciembre's individual musical interpretations - I have to be even more a builder, and a reluctant blocker. It's a team-working thing where:

1. a blocker says 'no' to a suggestion; whereas
2. a builder says, 'that's a good idea, here's how we can make it better.'
   

There are times where elements are left out because they butt heads with others or detract from the focus of the song.

At the editing desk, this translates into the fine-details of:

• slicing audio files at zero-point crossings;
• muting audio regions;
• aligning elements where the attacks weren't appropriate; and
• moving elements into new places.
  

The latter task, that of arrangement (and in some cases re-arrangement), has been the most rewarding; where the products of the first cut pass, rejigged and tidied up of all extraneous parts, have sounded more than a little inspiring.

It doesn't mean that there isn't a long way to go, because there is. But at least after tonight, when Thom's trumpet riff at the beginning of the second chorus plus a couple of stabs during Mike's trombone solo in 'Tributo al son' have been adjusted, I can mix-down all the drafts so that Jeremy, Ana and I can prepare for the next tranche of overdubs in the next year.

There'll be more about that in my end-of-year update but at least by the end of tonight, the first cut pass will have ended, signalling the resumption of the recording phase.

Loo Yeo

Where Is The Love?

Cafféteria is where I go for my regular poison. It might be true that a few yards farther, both Gusto Italiano and Caffé Nero share more luxuriant decor and narrowly a better bean. But whereas its more auspicious competitors are proud to deliver a good product as standard operating procedure, Cafféteria's girls show me the love.

It means a lot to me.

A touch of Gemma in the morning

If you found yourself smiling, you're feelin' it too.

I'm finding that my relationship with salsa is moving the same way. With less and less time on hand, there's no choice but to be increasingly selective about where I dance and whose lessons I attend (yes I still do occassionally). With the former, it used to be about great music.

It's now about where the music comes from; the disc jockey's heart, if you will.

I can forgive a multitude of sins if I know that the person behind the decks cares for whom he or she is playing. The operative words here are: 'care' as in the well-being sense; and 'for' instead of 'to'. It stems from my consistently lukewarm experiences of the Biggest and Best events, and the intimate and unexpected delights from the least assuming of venues.

My contention is that an emotional need cannot be fulfilled by solely rational circumstances - a compelling performance cannot be assured through technique alone. A competent DJ who really cares manages to communicate this in the atmosphere he or she generates, and it makes a world of impact on the clientele the DJ attracts and retains, and in constructing the night's cultural timbre. An observer should take just three to five songs, reading the deck-spinner and the crowd, to understand where the DJ is coming from.

Let's put it another way.

Below is a quote taken in entirety from a semi-open forum. It was expressed by a leading DJ for the response of other salsa-folk:

[quote]

Question?
What was THE salsa track that, many, many years ago was one that got you hooked? For everyone it will be something different.
But, I'll bet it wasn't Hacha Y Machete, or other such matured palette tracks.
Was it perhaps an Africando track? Was it a melodic Frankie Ruiz. Or even God forbid! Sonora Carruselles
We need to keep our minds open to the fact, that our over exposed tastes may be becoming prejudices. Seem exotic to the silent majority, in fact....
We all love salsa. If you want it to grow, it needs to be inclusive not exclusive.
All I've seen over the years is the salsa crowds, get smaller and smaller and the music become more and more exotic.
I can't help but think there is a directly proportional relationship.....
In truth if I had walked into a salsa club over a decade ago and heard the never ending hard core styles I hear today, I would have walked back out and never have bothered.
Cheese has it's place. It brings people in.
I'm not saying shit music should be played all the time. It just has it's place.
You can't grow quality Fruit and Veg, without a little manure.

[unquote]

The point regarding inclusivity and the arguments flowing from it are hard to ignore. The tenor bears no small element of condescension, imbuing the passage with a shade of arrogance. And yet the question is open, unguarded and disarmingly honest.

But for all its rationality, my question is, 'Where is the Love?'

What kind of participants does this DJ attract? What might be the timbre of the culture constructed?

And so I'm coming to redefine what I mean when I use the words 'good' or 'great'. People who work the decks do so because they draw from a complex pool of motivations, some being: a desire to share one's love of music; an economic need; external validation; political altruism; ideological conversion... To propose that there be just one reason would be a little bit naïve.

I'm looking for the mix that most suits me - Great coffee.

1. An admittedly commercial product (I don't mind paying for the good stuff);
   
2. Made up of good ingredients (it doesn't always have to be top-of-the-line, but right up there is nice);
3. Blended with loving care; and
   
4. Pitched with a good twist of humour.
   

Loo Yeo

P.S. My answer to the question is Proyecto Uno's "El Tiburón". It's a merengue, but I didn't know that at the time. And I still love it as much today as I did then.

"The Art Of The Solo Performer" by Steve Rapson

Illustration (left) ©Copyright 2007 Steve Rapson. All Rights Acknowledged.

This book is lavished with personal insight about the music performance business. From cover to cover, the witty, mischievous, and sometimes moving morsels of wisdom pose as answers to rhetorical questions, like:

Should I fire my manager?
What is a song plugger?
How come everybody doesn't recognize my greatness?

Mr.Rapson's style is easy to read, making light work of deceptively profound performance truths gleaned at the coal-face of Boston's acoustic musicians circuit. It is less of a field guide, and more of a field journal: the sort of book that rewards re-reading as you develop.

Steve makes little distinction between musical performance and public speaking, and understandably so: unless you're as great as the late Roy Orbison, most artists have to have a little patter between the numbers.

Although the ideas are arranged into the major categories of Philosophy, Business, Material, Performance, and Public Speaking, they are still quite modular in nature; so it's worthwhile making notes and arranging them in a way that suits your own mind.

Clever, honest, funny and perceptive. There's always something on its pages for you as a performer to think about; be you a fledgling to the stage or a seasoned hand. Having "The Art Of The Solo Performer" next to you is like having your own personal performance consultant, and therein lies the rub: consultants help you understand what should be done, but you still gotta do it yourself.

He makes mark of that in the Addendum.

Steve Rapson's book is a deserved classic.

Loo Yeo

"Stage Presence From Head To Toe" by Karen A. Hagberg

Illustration (left) ©Copyright 2003 The Scarecrow Press, Inc. All Rights Acknowledged.

This work strangely only gets going halfway through - as if the author began with what she knew best, worked through to the end, and then addressed what she considered the ancillaries; some of which were placed at the beginning. Consequently the sections following "The Orchestra" on page 47 inclusive are most coherent; while those preceding, for example "The Small Ensemble", read as a largely repetitive subset of this 109 page publication (including Bibliography).

All the material, set within the realm of classical rendition, is based on the principle of 'The Listener's enjoyment of the Music is paramount, and anything that distracts the Listener from its performance should be eliminated'.

While such a defensive approach does have value, it by no means portrays the full story; there is negligible mention of how a special rapport might be established with the audience, and nothing at all about how it might be enhanced. As such, the marketing of Dr.Hagberg's work under the title "Stage Presence" is hardly justifiable. "Stage Conduct" would have been less sexy but more apt.

There are some "Don'ts" and too few "Dos"; most iterated more than a handful of times, and the book does positively boast illustrations which drive the points home very well indeed.

Dry, procedural and uninspiring... it is an attempt which could have been précised in less than half the space. If the publishers had had a certain minimum size in mind (as I'm sure they would have done), then there would have been plenty of room for personal insight - Dr. Hagberg presents workshops and offers consultancy in this area, and thus should have had plenty of scope to demonstrate her expertise. Sadly, this was overlooked.

Overall, "Stage Presence From Head To Toe" is a flawed endeavour; an squandered opportunity whose strong concept deserves a well-planned revision.

Loo Yeo

1st October 2010 Havana Rakatan @Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield

Havana Rakatan, the Cuban dance show spectacular, had been making large enough waves that even the regions far-flung from Britain's capital had heard of, albeit perhaps not witnessed, it. That changed as Summer's September gave way to Autumn's October, when Sheffield was chosen to launch the company's 2010 UK tour. Unusually, Havana Rakatan stayed for four nights instead of the usual Latin dance show's just one; a sure sign that artistic directors have begun to realise a-more-than-cursory interest in the genre.

http://www.sadlerswells.com/fliers/havana2010/index.htm
(All Rights Acknowledged)

I thought it'd be a fine thing to start the weekend on a high, so on Friday night I plopped myself in Circle and thumbed excitedly through the programme. Good thing I did too, because as it later transpired, no audio narrator is present with this production. By the time the show commenced, I'd gathered that it was cleaved into two acts - the first comprising five scenes set from the early colonial period until 'El Manicero' of the late 1920s, with the exception of the contemporary opening of El Malecón in contemporary Havana. The second act has scenes set in 1940s 'Golden Havana', 1950s-60s, 1970s, and Modern Havana.

A lot can be gleaned from what was emphasised and what was left out - it was clear that the show differed little from 'Lady Salsa' and 'Pasión de Buena Vista' in portraying an idealised fantastical Cuba. Havana Rakatan possessed scenes of strong multi-textural themes, whose layered meanings were sufficient to satisfy a broad audience: from the 'there-to-be-wowed-by-the-dancing' to the culture aficionado. As such, modern standards internationalised by the Buena Vista Social Club did make an appearance: 'Chan Chan' and 'Candela' although the latter was reworked in such a musically satisfying manner, I doubt that many recognised it from the album.

The company's band "Turquino" was typical of a stage ensemble where versatility is paramount. Many of its nine personnel (excluding lead male and lead female vocals) were multi-instrumentalists: the bassist taking on lead vocals; the bongocero also playing timbales; and horn players singing backing vocals. The phrasing of their music was spot-on for each genre - it's not an easy task to play well the musics spanning more than a century. Turquino's professionalism came across best in their understated nature, never detracting from the main focus of the show which was the dancing.

It's here that the show was greater than any other of its ilk.

Being unable to rely upon the crutch of the spoken word, the choreography had to convey every facet of the narrative. The dancers, being graduates of Havana's Escuela Nacional de Arte were proficient in timing, execution and performance, although admittedly some were markedly better than others. There were a few surprises too, some great 'salsa' style dancers were less comfortable performing rumba and vice versa. And I found the rumba columbia segment too tinged with jazz movement and not flavoured enough from Matanzas, but I'd forgive the necessity to sacrifice authenticity for the sake accessibility.

If there was an Achilles' Heel in the repetoire, it was in the execution of the non-native forms like the mambo where the dancers' foot-speed was sluggish (the lead male vocalist possessed far superior foot-speed than the dancers; he could have showed them a thing or two), and the body-speeds lacked shading. Likewise the brass section was too small to deliver brashness and punch, and neither did the timbales attack quite early enough. But those were simply minor shadows in what is a high quality commission by Sadlers Wells. Havana Rakatan bears all the hallmarks of that Theatre's excellent standards - the set design, lighting, and sound reinforcement enhance the experience without being obtrusive. The programme notes could benefit from the same level of attention, given its primacy from the lack of commentary.

Havana Rakatan has come closest to transporting me to escapist Cuba, and is easily the show I would most rather to see again.

Loo Yen Yeo

"Guide To Karaoke Confidence" by Jeffrey Allen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loo Yeo