I found this wonderful tribute to Celia Cruz on YouTube.
A young Cuban hip-hop band (Don Dinero) have done a remix of Celia performing the old Cuban classic song ‘Son De La Loma’ (They’re From La Loma).
(Or as these guys put it – Unless they’re from the Yuma, in which case they speak English)
Celia Cruz is one of my favourite musicians of all time, with a career that spanned 50 years, singing at the height of latin jazz and salsa for most of that time. I was lucky enough to see her perform live a few years before she died. I got the tickets at very short notice so took our first-born daughter, then aged seven. It was at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire Theatre and we were there early enough to dash to the front. Jose Alberto (‘El Canario’) from Puerto Rico was supporting and we managed to hold on to our front row position through his terrific act (I LOVE Jose Alberto!). And then Celia came on, aged almost 80, wearing a huge, gleaming blonde wig. She sang and danced with energy that would put most 40-year olds to shame! At one point she asked the audience what they wanted to hear. “La Guagua” (The Bus), people yelled. Celia glanced at her band. “They’ll have to read it from the music…” she said a little apologetically.
A couple of years later Celia became ill from a brain tumour and died. She was unforgettable and I’ll bet we’ll never see her equal.
It’s good to see these young Cuban gangstas pay tribute to their musical origins.
My favourite line from these rappers is: Celia…Guantanamera…We miss you and we love you.
Santiago de Cuba as seen from the balcony of Sandra’s house. We had a similar view in a house where we were taught by one of the most wonderful dancers I’ve ever seen – a young Afro-Cuban called Yoannis (it IS his real name – he deserves to be famous, he is AMAZING!)
Here’s a clip of Yoannis dancing his smooth, Santiago-style salsa at the Casa de la Trova – where I danced with him.
We met him in the Casa de la Trova, where the world’s best son cubano bands perform. This is where Compay Segundo, Eliades Ochoa and those Buena Vista old guys used to play. It’s an old house just off Parque Cespedes, the main square in Santiago. On the second floor, with an open balcony which overlooks the nearby alleyway, wooden ceiling fans fail to cool the air. By the time theyve danced a few numbers, all non-Cubans are glistening with sweat. The Cubans, however, wear white, stay cool and glide effortlessly across the floor, dancing in their unique Santiago style. We watch, mesmerised as old couples take the floor to the music of ‘Los Jubilados’ (the Retirees). In the hall next door, Yulieski takes me for a spin. He dances beautifully, quite unlike the Habaneros. It’s graceful, his left arm stays rigid in the ballroom hold and he guides me around the hall. Before long, I’m totally converted to the Santiago style.
We’ve told Yulieski that we want to learn to dance son, the old dance from which salsa takes many of its basic moves. He finds a guy he knows, a dance teacher – Yoannis – signalling to the young dancer that I’d like a dance. Yoannis looks me up and down very briefly. He stares at me archly. “Salsa or son?” “Son,” I say. “The timing is different,” and begins to move. “2,3,4…6,7,8. See? Not like salsa, on the 1.” We begin to dance. He doesn’t try anything fancy – dance teachers rarely show off with a dancer they don’t know. And I asked him to dance…so I get the bored-but-dutiful act. Yulieski watches. He’s from Santiago but he’s never tried dancing son. “I think of it as for older people,” he admits. “But it looks pretty good…”
Sandra and Odris, Yulieski’s girlfriend, are there too, but only Pupa seems to be having a good time. Odris looks bored rigid. “There’s a Casa de la Musica here in Santiago too,” she hints. “They play reggaeton.”
Reggaeton! The youngsters are all mad for it. No need for partners and no need to learn steps.
After the band finish, the DJ plays salsa and timba. People dance between the tables – the dance floor is too small. Yoannis takes a stick-thin Cuban woman by the hand as Adalberto Alvarez’s homage to the orishas of the Santeria religion, “Y Que Tu Quiere Que Te Den” begins to play. They begin to dance – son mixed with salsa. It’s a casual dance, improvised, but better than any performance I’ve seen, with the possible exception of Rafael di Busto and Janet Fuentes, the world champions of salsa. Once the chorus starts to salute the orishas – Yoannis and his partner break apart and begin to dance folkloric style – rumba and proper African dancing, laughing and joking, teasing each other. Our eyes are popping out at how amazing they are. The table next door is filled with European women. One of them leans over and tells us “He’s our dance teacher. Why don’t you get him to give you a private lesson?”
Later, trying to cool off on the balcony, I meet Yoannis and ask him for a private lesson. “How much do you charge?” “Have you got a thousand dollars?” he says. “No..how much for two hours?” “Well…if you don’t have a thousand dollars…then I charge ten dollars per hour per person.”
We meet Yoannis the next afternoon and he walks us through the streets of Santiago, saluting pals on the way, to a house where he’s borrowing the front room. There he spend an hour correcting some bad habits we’ve picked up in salsa, then we get down to the task in hand.
We’ve asked Yoannis to show us how to dance contratiempo – counter-time – the timing and movements of son, to the music of salsa. Proper Cuban salsa should mix son, mambo and rumba. But it isn’t easy! He makes us find the countertime on a whole series of tracks.
Yulieski watches, and dances on his own. As we leave his eyes are gleaming. “Let’s go out tonight and practice!”
