Cheo Feliciano

The childhood of José ‘Cheo’ Feliciano was poor but happy. His parents were Prudencio, a carpenter, and Crecensia, a homemaker. Cheo inherited from them a taste for the irresistible seduction of music. On Sunday afternoons, recovering from a week’s work, his parents would sing the popular boleros and guarachas of the time. Together with Raúl Manfredi and a few other boys from the neighborhood of Bélgica de Ponce, Cheo discovered the magic of Afro-Caribbean percussion. He received his first formal music lessons by Julio Alvarado, at the school Escuela Libre de Música Juan Morel Campos.

The defining moment that introduced Cheo into the mambo craze and burgeoning salsa movement happened in New York, when he became the conga player with Conjunto Marianasi, led by Luis Cruz.

In his first live gigs, Cheo would imitate the famous soneros of the time. At the infamous Palladium, the mecca of mambo,Tito Rodríguez gave him his first opportunity as a singer. “I wanted to sound just like Tito,” remembers Feliciano. “His perfectionism and professionalism were an example to follow. Tito was my teacher, mentor and advisor. He recommended me to Joe Cuba’s sextet.”

A sonero is established

During the ’50s, Cheo joined the Joe Cuba Sextet and made it big. The leadership of the great orchestras of Tito Puente, Machito and Tito Rodríguez was coming to an end, and a trend favoring smaller orchestras was established.

The Joe Cuba Sextet became a phenomenon, particularly because of the intensity and versatility of the Sabater-Feliciano combination – unequaled in the history of Latin music.

Through hits such as “El Pito,” “Nina” and “El Ratón” (the latter was reminiscent of his childhood, when the singer and his friends chased rodents with slings), Cheo experienced fame. Sadly, he fell victim to the temptations of controled substances.

“At the time, people weren’t really aware of drugs and their dangers,” he explains. “Most of us experienced all that due to ignorance. Young people are always searching for adventure. We were offered drugs, with the promise that they would make us feel good. We knew nothing of the addiction, illnesses and other consequences that lay ahead.”

After he spent days wandering about the Latin barrio, Eddie Palmieri reminded him that he was a talented man – that he could stand up. Eddie gave him two tracks – Marcelino Guerra’s “Busca Lo Tuyo” and “Ay, Que Rico” – on the 1968 LP Champagne.

Fortunately, Cheo was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. He spent a week at home, deep in reflection. Months later, in December of 1969, he moved to Puerto Rico and became one of the pioneers in the drug foundation Hogares Crea.

With a little help from my friends

The final realization of Cheo as an artist, and his redemption as a human being, happened thanks to the generosity of a number of friends – Tite Curet Alonso, Tommy Olivencia, Silvio Iglesias – who made a conscious attempt to help him return to singing.

Tite and Cheo met in New York, 110th and Madison, the heart of the Latin barrio. They were introduced by Fernando Sterling, a common friend.

Back in Puerto Rico, Tite visited him frequently at Hogar Crea. He also introduced him to Jerry Masucci, who signed him as an exclusive artist with Vaya Records.

With arrangements by Bobby Valentín and Nick Jiménez, and the songwriting wisdom of Tite Curet Alonso, Feliciano recorded the album Cheo, which includes classic cuts such as “Anacaona” and “Mi Triste Problema.”

“I always knew that I would write a good song for Cheo,” recalled Tite during an interview. “‘Anacaona’ tells the story of an Indian princess from the Dominican Republic. The Spaniards killed her husband, Prince Caonabo. Romantic themes were at the core of the other songs that I wrote for this album. “Mi Triste Problema” talks about couples that are married in paper, but share no love between them.”

The only black man whose pores sweat honey

Mentioning the name of José ‘Cheo’ Feliciano in 2009 is talking of a veritable gentleman of the stage, an altruistic example of self-realization, and a multifaceted singer who has shone in every Latin genre.

During the mambo section of the Tite Curet composition “Trizas,” Cheo points out that he is “the only black man whose pores sweat honey” – an allusion to his innate romanticism.

This collection could not be complete without “Amada Mía” by José Nogueras, and “Juguete” by Bobby Capó, boasting a string arrangement by Argentine producer Jorge Calandrelli, who became internationally famous through his work for Cheo.

“When Tito Rodríguez died, Fania tried to turn Cheo into a new version of Tito,” explained Tite Curet. “It didn’t work out, because Tito was sui generis, and Cheo was different. He found his way again with the album Estampas.”

The voice of the salsa chronicle

If we strive to be true to the real story of José ‘Cheo’ Feliciano – the man and his music – the exercise of documenting his relationship to song demands that we underscore the fact that, just like salsa would not exist without Tite Curet, Cheo’s career would not have enjoyed the prestige and credibility that it did without Tite’s songs.

Tite was Cheo’s “musical tailor.” And without Cheo’s voice, Tite’s chronicles – inspired in real life – would not have transcended with such eloquence and social impact.

“Anacaona,” “Pa’ que afinquen” and “Mi triste problema”

A successful trilogy of songs, culled from Cheo’s debut LP for the Vaya label. Released in 1971, the album was a virtual passport to the gathering of Fania stars at the Cheetah club. This was more than deserved for Cheo, since he was a veteran of the jam sessions held by the Tico and Alegre All Stars at the Village Gate.

“Anacaona”. The sequel to this song is titled “Canoabo.” Cheo did not record it.

“Pa’ Que Afinquen” is a tasty son that finds Cheo admitting that other singers took advantage of his long absence from the music scene. However, he has no trouble recapturing the spotlight, because he sings from the heart and without skipping the clave – like a few of his competitors do.

“Mi Triste Problema” describes the tragedy of the man who lives with a lady whom he doesn’t love anymore – either to keep up appearances, for fear of what people may say, or because of a contract or promise made to God.

“Armonioso Cantar” and “Naborí”

In 1973, following the album of boleros with strings La Voz Sensual that Jorge Calandrelli had produced the previous year, Tite and Cheo met again for the project With A Little Help From My Friend.

The sequel to “Pa’ Que Afinquen,” “Armonioso Cantar” is another delightful son where Cheo reclaims his leadership as a sonero who feels “the rhythm in his heart.”

The story of a man who is exploited during the time of the Caribbean sugar plantations, “Naborí” tackles the issue of racial discrimination.

“Estampa marina” and “Los Entierros”

Two classics of narrative salsa, recorded in 1979.

“Estampa Marina” was inspired by the experiences of fishermen from the region of Vieques de Loíza, Puerto Rico, who went fishing with the uncertainty of their return – quite often, the sea would punish their humble boats, bringing sorrow and despair to their families. Tite wrote “Estampa II: El Regreso,” but Cheo has never recorded it.

“Los Entierros” stems from Tite witnessing a funeral procession in the community of Nemesio R. Canales in Bayamón, Puerto Rico. The family of the deceased was so poor, that the flowers in the procession were made out of paper.

Considering his trajectory, Cheo is clearly one of the five most emblematic vocalists in the history of salsa. In no particular order, since each one of these is in a class of his very own, Cheo is a legend – together with Ismael Rivera, Héctor Lavoe, Rubén Blades and Celia Cruz.

Tommy Olivencia Y Su Orquesta Plante Bandera

An incubator band for some of salsa’s greatest singers, Fania producer and trumpeter Luís Perico Ortiz brought Tommy Olivencia and his
musicians from Puerto Rico to New York to record this blockbuster.

Boasting several chart-breaking hits like “Planté Bandera”, “Casimira”, “Si Estas Herido”, “Evelio y La Rumba”, “A Mi Pai Chango”, and the now classic standard “Trucutu” penned by Olivencia’s hot singer Chamaco Ramirez, this recording was Chamaco’s last with Olivencia before his 1979 release Alive and Kicking prefaced his untimely death. Interestingly, that last recording was produced and arranged by Javier Vasquez, longtime Ismael Rivera collaborator with material intended for El Sonero Mayor before passing it on to Ramirez.

Crisp, complex and soaring trumpet solos mark many of the tunes distinguished by sharp arrangements wrapped around a big band production
style favored by Ortiz. Many of these were written by Ortiz along with
José Febles, Louie Cruz, Máximo Torres and Dominican trumpeter Cabrerita,
who arranged the tasty merengue, “A la Yumbae”.

As with most dance bands of the 1970s, ballads were included to give
dancers some breathing room leaving lovers (and suitors) on the dance
floor. On this recording, Olivencia leaves the romantic crooning to
José Pepe Sanchez who starts off “Como Novela De Amor”, leaving the final
soneos (improvisations) to Chamaco’s clear, strong yet somewhat nasally
tenor while “El Amor” covertly includes a bossa nova feel lending to its
amorous appeal.

Another distinction has most of the tunes, except for two, written by
Puerto Rico’s prolific Tite Curet Alonso whom trumpeter/bandleader
Olivencia would seek out for his original material. Alonso probably had
some say in this production as well.

David Cortijito’s unusual tumbao (drumming patterns) during the call and
response of the choruses also mark its territory underscoring the
recording’s significance of branding by flag.

”Planté Bandera” in particular stands out as a life-affirming,
self-empowering ode to coming of age confidence as sung by Chamaco. His
phrase, al hecho pecho tambien yo tengo derecho (what’s done is done, I
also have a right {to the spotlight}), quickly becomes the vernacular
for upcoming street warriors.

The street theme of champions continues in “Si Estas Herido” where
Chamaco advises young men not to cry about their problems, but like the
lion fight back when attacked.

”Evelio Y La Rumba” is punctuated throughout with the tangy bongo beats
of José Papi Fuentes escalating into a rumba descarga highlighted by the
mozambique bell patterns of timablero, Julito Morales.

A bomba to the orishas (gods), “” Mi Pai Chango” is arranged in big band
style by Ortiz, featuring three trumpets and two trombones accompanying the
thunderously driving bomba beat. Chamaco comes through with flying
white and red colors, symbolizing the deity of thunder, lightning and
carousing. So much for those who say that bomba is not linked to
spiritualism; this bomba bursts with so much spirit, strength and
dance-filled fun it might bring down more than just a house.

Completing this recording is Chamaco’s signature “Trucutu”, a tune he
recorded with Olivencia in the late 1960s. A literal shout out to all
the truqueros-–con artists—who circle like vultures around poor
communities, “Trucutu” not only showcases Chamaco’s composing skills but
his vocal dexterity (maña), phrasing, stamina and overall street cred
and class.

Credits:

Rafael Rodríguez – Trombone
Victor Candelario – Trombone
Ismael Rodríguez – Trumpet
Luís Ortiz – Trumpet
Hector Zarzuela – Trumpet
Tommy Olivencia – Trumpet
Frank Revilla – Piano
Jaime Ramirez – Bass
David Cortijito – Conga
Julito Morales – Timbal
José “Papi” Fuentes – Bongo

Lead Vocal – Chamaco Ramirez
Vocals – José “Pepe” Sanchez
Chorus – Adalberto Santiago, Hector Lavoe, Yayo El Indio

Producer – Luís “Perico” Ortiz
Director – Tommy Olivencia
Recorded at – Good Vibrations Sound Studios, New York City
Engineer – Jon Fausty
Arrangements – Luís “Perico” Ortiz (“Planté Bandera”, “Como Novela De Amor”, “Evelio Y La Rumba”, “A Mi Pai Changó”,”Trucutú”); Louis Cruz (“Casimira”); Cabrerita (“A La Yumbae”); Jose Febles (“Si Estas Herido”); Máximo Torres (“El Amor”)

Poncho Sanchez

Poncho Sanchez was born in Texas on October 30, 1951 into a large Mexican-American family (rumor has it that his 13-year old mother fled to the U.S. after hiding under the bed as revolutionary Pancho Villa stormed her village), but grew up in the Los Angeles area, where he was weaned on a broad range of Latin and non-Latin popular music. Inspired by the conga playing of Cuban great Mongo Santamaria, he honed his skills as a percussionist and broke into the limelight at the age of 23 when he joined vibraphonist Cal Tjader’s famed Latin jazz ensemble in 1975. Poncho performed with him until Tjader’s untimely death in 1982. A year later, he began his unprecedented 23-year relationship with Concord Records, which has produced two dozen recordings, a Grammy Award and several Grammy nominations.

Cal Tjader

Cal Tjader is so funny to talk with that it’s virtually impossible to get serious about anything, and that includes Cal himself. John Wendeborn, a critic for the Portland Oregonian, said recently: “The guy portrays a hyper sense of humor offstage that is a direct opposite from his quiet, yet active, demeanor when playing. Talking with Tjader for an interview with notes and all is difficult. He kept me in stitches most of the time with ad libs and imitations of other people, including his late friend Lenny Bruce.”

Perhaps Tjader’s personality encourages people to take the man and his music lightly. Even his primary instrument, the vibraphone, lends itself to thoughts of cocktail lounge chatter as opposed to serious jazz musicianship. Whatever the case, the San Francisco Chronicle’s John Wasserman wrote this about Cal:

“Cal Tjader is a classic case of the taken-for-granted jazz musician. He has played for 20 years in the shadow of Milt Jackson, and, more recently, been out-avant-garded by the likes of Gary Burton and Bobby Hutcherson.

“Well, fie on all of them. Cal plays the instrument more beautifully than anyone save Jackson, and can cook in a way Jackson can’t; or, at least, doesn’t. His music knows no boundaries—Afro-Cuban, jazz and pop are merely its elements—and combines commercial accessibility with the most pure musicianship.”

Tjader is a Swedish name; his mother bestowed her proper British affiliations on him with the middle name of Radcliffe. It’s more than ironic that their son grew up to be the most respected “gringo” Latinos have ever embraced.

Cal’s mother was a concert pianist, his father a vaudeville performer. He grew up with them on the road—tap-dancing his way through early childhood. Later, the family settled down in San Mateo on the San Francisco Peninsula, and his father opened a dancing school. “In those years, every kid on the block went to dancing classes on Saturday mornings.” After high school and a stint in the Navy, Cal ended up at San Francisco State College, where he first met up with Dave Brubeck and Paul Desmond.

“The original Brubeck Octet was really a rehearsal group. That’s a fancy name for a bunch of guys who get together to play but don’t have any paying work!” Cal chuckles. Tjader graduated in 1950 with a B.A. in education and a minor in music. With Brubeck, Tjader hit the big time for the first time, and he liked it. The years between 1949 and 1951 were spent with Brubeck, and he fortunately realized that schoolteaching wasn’t for him.

Then, after a short stint as leader of his own group, Cal joined George Shearing’s Quintet as featured vibraphonist and percussionist. While with Shearing Cal made frequent trips to New York and began listening to the Latin New York bands of Tito Puente and Machito. “I always had an affection for Latin rhythms and I was looking for something different.”

When Tjader left Shearing (after winning all sorts of honors for himself as a vibraphonist), he formed his own group again and began to record prolifically for Fantasy. Between 1954 and 1962, Tjader cut a series of over 20 albums for Fantasy. (“It seemed like four or five LPs a year!”) The list of people who recorded with him during that time is truly impressive. Some are Vince Guaraldi, Mongo Santamaria, Willie Bobo, Stan Getz, Al McKibbon, Armando Peraza, Latin percussionist Johnnie Rae, and saxophonist Paul Horn. Many of those albums are still in the Fantasy catalog; they all sell steadily to a distinct and informed coterie of Latin-jazz/Afro-Cuban/salsa fans.

“Latin jazz?” asks Cal. “I thought it was called salsa today. It really doesn’t make a bit of difference. The same type of music was first called Afro-Cuban, then modern mambo, then Latin jazz, and now it’s salsa. Mambo-jombo. Tito [Puente] calls it ‘beans and rice music,’ others call it Latin soul. Actually, there’s no difference between a Latin soul and a Jewish soul! In fact, some of the most ardent fans of the music are Jewish (ask Bill Graham)!”

Tjader’s biggest-selling record was “Soul Sauce.” Dizzy Gillespie and Chano Pozo (a great conga drummer from Cuba who started with the Gillespie band in the late Forties) wrote an essentially jazz composition; Cal arranged it for his own style and retitled it ‘Soul Sauce.’ “I recorded that for MGM/ Verve in 1964. And it’s very strange, in a way, because I first started playing that tune in San Francisco clubs ten years earlier, in 1954. Then ten years later, it’s a hit in New York. You tell me! Willie Bobo played jawbone on that one, and Al McKibbon played congas. It was originally called ‘Guachi Guara’ but we knew that name wouldn’t make it, so we just called it ‘Soul Sauce.’”

Tjader continues: “It’s a strange feeling—even today. I was in New York City early in January [1976] for a big ‘salsa’ gig. The audience always calls out for the old hits—‘Soul Sauce’ or ‘Cuban Fantasy’ or something like that. I guess every musician who has ever come up with an across-the-board hit gets that reaction.”

Tjader re-signed with Fantasy Records in 1970. He has been producing a series of light, brisk, relaxed, easygoing albums—all of which have been imbued with Tjader’s special sense of control and lyricism. He swings, lightly or heavily, but he swings. One would be hard -put to find another white musician who has related so thoroughly to Latin rhythms. Beyond that, Tjader is the one who made those rhythms popular.

Some of Cal’s current and varied recordings for Fantasy include a collaborative effort with Charlie Byrd (Tambu), an all-ballads LP (Last Night When We Were Young), and an exciting live working-group performance (Puttin’ It Together). His much-acclaimed Amazonas, released last year, was produced by Airto, with arrangements from keyboard wizard George Duke. “Airto was a joy to work with,” says Tjader. “I’m very pleased with the way Amazonas turned out.”

Cal’s latest LP, At Grace Cathedral, is a live recording that decidedly captures the excitement and freshness of his music. Tjader performed at the “Concerts for the Hungry” benefit at San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral as a short-notice replacement for his friend, the late pianist Vince Guaraldi, and he dedicated this album to Vince’s memory. Cal’s band on the LP includes Poncho Sanchez (congas), Lonnie Hewitt (electric piano), Rob Fisher (acoustic bass), and Pete Riso (drums).

Cal Tjader died May 5, 1982.

¿Cómo se origino el Jazz Latino?

 La Música Afro antillana y el Jazz son dos géneros musicales que tienen raíces muy parecidas. Ambas son el resultado del encuentro de los habitantes de África, traídos a América para trabajar como esclavos, con la música occidental europea; ambas nacieron de la fusión de elementos musicales africanos y europeos aunque de maneras diferentes.

En el Jazz por ejemplo la percusión se ha visto limitada al uso de la batería y su ligazón con la percusión africana es más bien lejana, mientras que en las Antillas el gusto africano por la percusión sigue vigente, y se siguen creando estructuras de alta

complejidad. Por otra parte los solistas de Jazz han lanzado niveles de gran desarrollo en cuanto a las estructuras melódicas y armónicas de sus improvisaciones.

Tomando en cuenta tanto los elementos comunes como las diferencias, era de esperarse que cuando músicos de los dos géneros entraran en contacto se sintieran mutuamente interesados. Durante décadas músicos de Jazz que visitaban las islas o músicos antillanos que emigraban a ciudades como Nueva York y Chicago se sentían atraídos por lo que oían ejecutar por sus colegas. Las construcciones melódicas y armónicas de las grandes orquestas de Jazz debieron fascinar a los músicos cubanos, tanto como los vivaces ritmos del Caribe a los Jazzistas norteamericanos.

Sin embargo no fue sino hasta la década de los cuarenta que se dieron los primeros intentos serios de fusionar las dos corrientes musicales. El 29 de septiembre de 1947 se presentó en el Carnegie Hall de Nueva York la Afrocuban Drums Suite, que reunía el trabajo de dos grandes músicos negros, uno cubano y el otro norteamericano: Mario Bauzá y Dizzy Gillespie. Entre los dos lograron fusionar por primera vez de una manera exitosa la sección rítmica afrocubana con una orquesta de Jazz. Posteriormente a recomendación de Mario Bauzá, Dizzy Gillespie contrató a un gran percusionista cubano que respondía al nombre de Chano Pozo y con el cual la orquesta de Gillespie continuó experimentando, logrando crear varios clásicos del Jazz Latino como “Tin tin deo” y “Manteca”.

Después del trabajo innovador de Mario Bauzá, Dizzy Gillespie y Chano Pozo, el Jazz latino ha continuado una ascendente carrera en la que ha habido muchas variantes con diferentes niveles de éxito, hasta llegar a nuestros días, en que, por lo general cuando se habla de Jazz latino, se piensa en una sección armónica, compuesta de piano, bajo, y en ocasiones guitarra, en otra sección de percusión que integran las congas, los bongos, los timbales, y la batería, que comparten la producción musical con una sección de instrumentos de aliento, conformada básicamente por solistas de Jazz. De esta manera sé logra crear una música que tiene lo mejor de los dos mundos: la complejidad rítmica de la música afro antillana y la intensidad de la improvisación del Jazz.

Grupos que continuaron  fomentando el Jazz Latino, como lo fueron  Tito Puente, Mongo Santamaría, Eddie Palmieri , Ray Barretto y Poncho Sánchez para mencionar algunos continúan fusionando la Música Afro antillana con el Jazz, para ofrecernos una música llena de vitalidad y fuerza, revivificando la escena musical de nuestra época.