Saturday, January 30, 2010

Ibae: Manuel Martínez Olivera, "El Llanero"

Manuel Martínez Olivera, “El Llanero”
January 1, 1930 - January 29, 2010
Photo courtesy Berta Jottar


"El Llanero," a beloved and revered figure in New York's Central Park rumba scene, passed away on Friday January 29th, around 10pm.

Funeral Services will be held Monday, February 1st from 3 to 10pm at Funeraria San Francisco, at 1st Ave & 115th Street in El Barrio.


Berta Jottar writes:

“El Llanero” was born in Havana, Cuba on January 1st 1930, and grew up in Cocosolo, Marianao.
He was raised in a traditional rumba family in Los Pocitos, Marianao; his sister had a virtuoso rumba voice, his cousin Patato Valdés was an internationally known rumbero already living in NYC since the 1940s; and his cousins Los Chinitos from the Korea neighborhood in San Miguel del Padrón remember him as the one who coined the name "guarapanchanguero" for the rumba style they invented which eventually became the distinctive sound of contemporary rumba in Havana.
El Llanero was a rumbero completo — the highest rank of rumbero, one who knows every facet of rumba singing, dance and percussion. He traveled to Matanzas to study rumba with the elders, and was particularly known for the cadence of his guaguancó, his privileged melodic voice, and his improvisational skills.
Upon his arrival to New York City with the 1980 Mariel Boatlift, a community of young, mostly Newyorican musicians quickly embraced him. Felix Sanabria, Abe Rodriguez, Eliot "Yeyito" Flores, and the Jewish-American folklorist Paula Ballan would collaborate with him for the rest of his life.
Later the same year after arriving in New York, El Llanero co-founded the rumba ensemble Chevere Makun Chevere with Juan "Bambu," and a pair of brothers with eminent rumbero pedigrees: recent marielito arrival Enrique “Kike” Dreke, and Juan "Curva" Dreke, who had been living in New York for some time already and had already worked on the legendary rumba LP "Patato y Totico" (1968). (Both were brothers of the famous rumbero Mario "Chavalonga" Dreke.)

Chévere Macun Chévere at Soundscape, Winter, 1981

(Left to right: Juan Vega "Bambu", Yeyito Flores, Felix D. Sanabria,
Manuel Martinez, Yah Yah Maldonado, Abraham Rodriguez)

Photo courtesy Felix Sanabria

El Llanero also performed several times as a guest artist with the prestigious folklore ensemble of Orlando "Puntilla" Rios y su Nueva Generación.
However, El Llanero was a major player in Los Afortunados, a folkloric group specializing in Afro-Cuban and Afro-Puertorican traditions founded in 1985 by his dear friend Paula Ballan, along with Felix Sanabria and Abraham Rodriguez.
Together they performed in the Natural History Museum, Philadelphia Folk Festival, at Nassau Community College with the sponsorship of the NEA, NYFA, the Arts Connection, Community Works, and the Brooklyn Arts Council.
Los Afortunados performed often at important grass roots cultural venues such as Galeria Blanco y Negro in the Bronx, founded by Renny Molenaar and famous for its effervescent Cuban cultural nights.


Los Afortunados at the Philadelphia Folk Festival, August 1986

(Manuel 5th from left)

Photo courtesy Felix Sanabria

Los Afortunados recorded two collectable cassettes, “Los Afortunados" (January 1985) and a second edition (September 1989). Manuel toured with them natioanlly until 1989, when his health worsened.
Although El Llanero was illiterate, he composed songs based on his everyday experiences. For Alfredo Díaz “Pescao,” he was a jilguero (songbird) who combined different phrases to compose a theme, and his voice had the classic tonality of Afrocuban folklore. El Llanero would ask Abe Rodriguez and Felix Sanabria—both of whom were his rumba disciples—to write down his songs.
Abe Rodriguez, (El Llanero’s singing partner par excellence) remembers in particular El Llanero’s gift of improvising a response to any given situation on the spot. For example, "caminando por la calle yo la vi" was a response to "Ay, nena."
Abe also admired El Llanero’s way of combining stories to create a song. “He would sing santo and would merge one canto to another, and it would be always in tune. El tenia íbiono mendo, (he had feeling).”
El Llanero would link each song; for instance, the beginning of one song with the end of the last song, and to do that, Abe asserts, one must have an innate sense of tonality and range. Abe’s ability to sing songs “back to back” is rooted in El Llanero’s practice.
Another secret that El Llanero passed along to Abe was that the singer must be able to sing with the guagua, because the clave is in the guagua. If you cannot do it that means that you don’t have clave. Abe said, “El Llanero was like Tío Tom (Gonzalo Ascencio), él cogia cosas y creaba, así, simple y en tiempo de rumba.” ("He was like Tío Tom, he took things and created, simple and with rumba feeling.")
Perhaps one of El Llanero’s biggest contributions to the New York City rumba community was his teaching to several generations of musicians who frequented the internationally acclaimed rumba scene of Central Park. Every summer since 1981, El Llanero would arrive and organize the rumba musically; indeed, he would lock the rumba circle.
As soon as he approached the rumba circle, people quickly congregated, knowing that ya la rumba se formó! —that now the rumba was really going to start!
The amplitude of his tranquil voice would extend to the upper side of the rumba area, allowing everybody to hear him. Since the late 1960s, Central Park has been a laboratory and workshop for rumba practitioners, and it was there where El Llanero, with the joy of his voice made our lives possible in this harsh city.


El Llanero, exhuberant in Central Park

Photo courtesy Berta Jottar


May Manuel Martínez Olivera, El Llanero, rest in peace. His voice and musical candor will always resonate in our hearts.

His friend Paula Ballan, who played a crucial if underacknowledged role in the early years of the Central Park rumba, posted this to her Facebook Profile:
Manuel Martinez, el Llanero Solitatio (the Lone Ranger) died last night. He was 80 years old. He came to New York via an internment camp in Wisconsin, where he had had been sent after getting off the boat that brought him from Havana’s Mariel harbor.
He was, as his Lone Ranger title would suggest, one of a kind. He left home at age 9 to pursue the rumba and he traveled throughout Cuba surviving as a street musician by his talents, charm and guile.
He studied with elder musicians, both urban and rural; and became a master of the rumba and its traditions. He was not easily manageable in the scope and demands of Fidel’s Revolution. He could sign his name and read and write numbers, but was otherwise non-literate.
His life style and personality made him a nuisance to the new order. When the boat lift began, he, like many others, was rounded up and dropped off at the harbor. He was recognized by other musicians at the internment camp and received a sponsorship from some Cuban musicians who had already made their way to New York.
He joined them here, and became the King of the Central Park Rumba: an anarchistic gathering on warm, sunny Sundays at the southwest corner of the rowboat lake. Manuel’s voice did not need amplification. His songs and choruses transformed dozens of participants into a wall of syncopated, harmonized music.
His energy and charisma was astonishing and his songs were infectious, humorous, political, heartbreaking and unforgettable. For more than 20 years he brought joy and music to musicians hungry for the authenticity of the roots he so generously shared.
We were fortunate to have shared his music and unique personality and will sing his songs and tell stories of the times we shared. Many American folk musicians, in deference to Woody Guthrie’s influence, are referred to as Woody’s Children.
Those of us who learned the rumba from Manuel, gladly embrace the title el Llanero’s Children.
* * *

We are happy to share with you today the 1985 recordings by Los Afortunados, courtesy of Félix Sanabria.

Produced by Paula Ballan
Recorded by Gene Heimlich, New York City, January 1985.

Personnel:

Manuel Martínez
Abe Rodríguez
Felix Sanabria
Rocky Causcut
Ricky Soler
Mirta Masonet
Susan Sanabria
Paula Ballan
Junito Martínez
Reiko


Track list:

Los Afortunados (Tema)
La Habana
Illabó ("Leguleya no")
El amor es siempre joven (by Manuel?)
Pero ya no hay sol
Ay, nena (by Manuel)
A la loma de Belén
Beny Moré
A mi manera
Columbia 1
Alma Libre (a capella)
Columbia 2

Download here.

Gene Golden and others have put up some video of Los Afortunados on youtube, here is one good example, click on the video to see more.








Monday, January 04, 2010

Recent academic research on rumba

Happy New Year! Now that the holiday festivities are over you may be ready to dig in to some recent research on rumba, especially as it relates to the diaspora and New York's Central Park.

Berta Jottar

"Zero Tolerance and Central Park Rumba Cabildo Politics." Liminalities: A Journal of Performance Studies Vol. 5, No. 4, November 2009. http://liminalities.net/5-4/rumba.pdf

The Acoustic Body: Rumba Guarapachanguera and Abakuá Sociality in Central Park" in Latin American Music Review, Volume 30, Number 1, Spring/Summer 2009. http://www.utexas.edu/utpress/journals/jlamr.html#301 (Also available here.)


Lisa Maya Knauer


"Audiovisual Remittances and Transnational Subjectivities" in Cuba in the Special Period edited by Ariana-Hernandez Reguant (Palgrave, 2009). http://www.palgrave-usa.com/catalog/product.aspx?isbn=0230606547

"Racialized Culture and Translocal Counterpublics: Rumba and Social Disorder in New York and Havana." In Caribbean Migrations to Western Europe and the United States edited by Margarita Cervantes Rodriguez, Ramon Grosfoguel and Eric Mielants, Temple University Press. http://www.temple.edu/tempress/titles/2004_reg.html

"The Politics of Afrocuban Cultural Expression in New York City." Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, Volume 34, Issue 8.
http://www.informaworld.com/smpp/title~db=all~content=g902376195

If you know of any more articles, let us know.

Tuesday, December 01, 2009

"Son Rumbe'ao" and "Changó ta vení"

A fascinating characteristic of rumba is that songs of many different styles can easily be arranged as a guaguancó. Mexican Rancheras, American Pop tunes, Argentine Tangos, Brazilan Sambas, even Peruvian Waltzes have all been turned into great rumbas.

Yet I'm still always a bit surprised when I find out that a song I normally think of as a son or a mambo actually started out as guaguancó.

When the son craze swept Havana in the 1920s, many rumberos began joining sextetos where they could hope to get a steady income from playing music.

Maria Teresa Linares has written that as the demand for son recordings and competition from other son groups began increasing, the soneros were searching for new songs and naturally the rumberos began adapting the rumbas they knew into son arrangements.

Ned Sublette and Cristobal Diaz Ayala once had a conversation (here) about what happened next:

NS: (...) When the son arrived in Havana, I say it became a son "rumbeao," a rumba-ized son. Coming to Havana, it takes on a different character. The people who play bongó are the same people who play rumba, who play batá. They also play arará, maybe. I say that, although they didn't record the rumba of the solar [tenement] at that time, if you want to know how it sounded, listen to the son records. And although they didn't record the coros de clave, if you want to know how they sounded, it's there. You know that what always caught my attention about the Septeto Habanero is -- those records are weird! They sound strange!

CDA: It's an acquired taste, the Habanero. What you're saying is true. It all comes together in the emblematic figure of Ignacio Piñeiro, who gets rid of the four monotonous verses of the original son and replaces them with décima; who mixes the son with the guajiro style, et cetera. And also Ignacio Piñeiro was Abakuá, Ignacio Piñeiro was in the coros de clave. That is, the son kept evolving.


There are many examples in old son recordings of songs that are actually rumbas. (There are quite a few very interesting ones on the Tumbao CD of María Teresa Linares and Rafael Zequeira, "El Legendario Duo De La Trova Cubana: Grabaciones Historicas 1916-1924.")

Here we have a nice versión of the classic "Changó ta vení" by Orquesta Riverside. There's also the added bonus of the great Gonzalo Asencio, "Tío Tom" introducing his composition, which is normally attributed to Justi Barreto, another great rumbero and prolific composer.



Now here's El Goyo singing "Changó ta vení" as a traditional guaguancó. He includes an extra verse I hadn't heard before:


E, Changó ta vení
Changó ta vení
Changó ta vení

Ya empezó el bembé
Oye la tambó ta soná
Ya empezó el bembé
Oye la tambó va soná

Si Sarabanda mayombe
mundo va acabá
Con un machete en la mano
tierra va a temblar

E, a

Changó ta vení
Changó ta vení
Changó ta vení

Coro: Sarabanda Changó ta vení

Thursday, July 09, 2009

María la O, ¿quién es?



Rumba lyrics are filled with allusions to colorful and evocative characters, mostly anonymous: Pregoneros, gossips, chinos, la china con diente de oro, to name just a few.

Then there are some who have names: Poor Severa and her godmother Latuá, José Nasario who doesn't know where the sun comes up, Maria las Nieves with her strange fear, our friend Arturo and his watch.

But there is one name that appears more than all the others: that of María la O.

Has there ever been a rumba at which her name hasn't come up at least once? Despite the many references, there is scarcely a hint of any personality behind the name. No guaguancó dedicated to her, no details of her life, nothing but a name.

She was destined to be given an honored place in rumba, in one of those "never fails" coros; later in the montuno, whenever the energy starts to drag a little bit, someone will inevitably call out:

¡María la O, kuenda!

¡Kuenda, María!

And time after time, the rumba obeys the bantú command "kuenda" (to go, get a move on, ¡camina!), and suddenly the spirit lifts, the tempo picks up again, and the rumba continues even stronger than before.

There is another refrain heard once in a while, as in the song that goes

Era un domingo cuando yo la ví
Iba coqueta, iba por allí
Iba cantando bajito
Un dulce canto que decía así:
María de la O,
María de la O,
María de la O...

But none of these tell us anything about a particular person with that name. So who was she? Is it possible to know?


The Story of (de la) O

"Maria la O" is a shortened form of "Maria de la O," is a surname, not uncommon in Spain.

The origins of the surname are somewhat obscure. There are basically two theories, that it came from the Catholic feast S. Maria de la O or is a Spanish corruption of the French, "de l'eau."

In a discussion on the blog languagehat.com, commenter Roger Depledge writes:
The Catholic Encyclopedia, under Feast of the Expectation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, says "The feast of 18 December was commonly called, even in the liturgical books, "S. Maria de la O", because on that day the clerics in the choir after Vespers used to utter a loud and protracted "O", to express the longing of the universe for the coming of the Redeemer (Tamayo, Mart. Hisp., VI, 485). The Roman "O" antiphons have nothing to do with this term, because they are unknown in the Mozarabic Rite. This feast and its octave were very popular in Spain, where the people still call it "Nuestra Señora de la O". [Juan Tamayo de Salazar, Martyrologium Hispanum (Lyon, 1651-59)]

Daniel de la O, writing at http://cafedelao.blogspot.com/ says:
Finally, my research has pointed one of the origins of the surname in France, in the region of la Vierge de l'eau. Which means Virgin of the Water, this place is famous because the Virgin Mary apeared over a water spring. Someone took the surname De l'eau, -probably happened around the 1485 by orders of the Vatican (long story)- and consequently when he or she moved to Spain the name changed from eau to O, because the word eau is pronounced exactly like the letter "O" in spanish. I'm sure that the ones of you who speak spanish will understand it better. After one or two generations the name became De La O, hiding it's relation to the virgin. This may be the origin of De La O and it would say that your surname actually means: of the Water...

Our resident francophile Patrice finds this last explanation a bit dubious, and I do as well, mostly because I haven't been able to turn up a single person with the last name "de L'eau."

But none of this probably matters anyway. Although "de la O" is a surname, there is some evidence to suggest that when combined with "María" it's always a given name.

An immigration database at BYU has a link to a document (downloadable here) on Spanish combined given names (such as Juan de la Cruz, Miguel Angel, María (del) Carmen and María de la O) and states:
"Extensive research and study of naming customs indicate that when any of the combinations of names on this list appear in a record they are given names. Some of the names, such as de la Cruz are also used as surnames but not in the combinations listed here."

So it seems safe to assume that whoever our subject was, "María la O" was merely her given name and not her full name.

MUSICAL REFERENCES

The name "María de la O," so strange to anglo ears, is not as uncommon as it seems, and has appeared in Cuban music, particularly in references to blacks or mulatas, since probably well before the 1860's. María Teresa Linares writes:
The composer Sebastián Iradier [(January 20, 1809 – December 6, 1865) ] made the Habanera universally famous when he wrote La Paloma, and many others, among them La Nenguita, which has as its refrain an old Cuban guaracha:

“Me llaman María La O
y no hay negra como yo
más bonita sí la habrá
pero más graciosa no."

The name also appears in a song by Rosendo Ruiz called "El Maine," a line from which was picked up by the Sevilliano cantaor Pepe de la Matrona who spent time in Cuba around 1914, for his song "Recuerdos de La Habana."

"Allá en el muelle
Está mi china que me espera.
Se llama María la O
Ay no, ay no.
Y esta china tiene rabia, por Dios.
Esta china tiene miedo
Que yo al muelle la llevara
Y la metiera en el barco
Y en el barco la dejara
Y esta es la china
De quien te hablo
A mí me gusta El anís del diablo."

Researcher Huib Buillet provides more detail on the origins of the reference:
The source: “Rosendo Ruiz Suárez”, in the magazine Música, Serie Nuestros Autores, n° 3, Biblioteca Nacional José Martí, La Habana (1985).

The article has an interview with Rosendo Ruiz, here is the excerpt:
Sí, el Cangrejito es una rumbita mía que yo no inscribí y que luego este músico respetable, Alejandro García Catarla, hizo un danzón con él y lo inscribió a su nombre… Enumerar todas mis composiciones sería muy difícil porque tengo más de trescientas. Esas rumbitas yo las hacía por embullo, pero no soy sonero, ni guarachero, soy trovador. El Maine sí fue un son muy popular:
Allá en el Maine
Hay una china que me espera,
se llama María la O
Ay Dios!
esa china tiene rabia por Dios…


Los Papines recorded a guaguancó called "María la O," but that song, a Spanish zambra written in the 1930's by Salvador Valverde, Rafael de León y Manuel López Quiroga enjoyed great popularity, having inspired at least two film versions in Spain by the time Los Papines recorded it, and still quite popular in the repertoire there.



María de la O
Que desgraciaíta, gitana, tu eres
teniéndolo tó’
Tu quieres reir
hasta los ojitos los tienes morados de tanto sufrir
Maldito parné
que por su culpita dejaste al gitano
que fue tu querer ¡Castigo de Dios!
¡Castigo de Dios!
Es la crucecita que llevas a cuestas
María de la O


Lecuona's María la O

Probably the most famous María la O is that of Ernesto Lecuona's zarzuela, which premiered in Havana on March 1, 1930.

In his thesis on the zarzuela, Henry MaCarthy writes:
There are two sources for the libretto of María La O. The first is based on a real
mulata that allegedly lived in Santiago de Cuba sometime during the mid nineteenth
century. Edwin Tolón, a theater impresario and close friend of Lecuona, who presented the original production in La Habana, relates an anecdote, in turn taken from oral narratives collected in the Annals of Santiago de Cuba:

[…] en esos años residía en esa ciudad un notable músico catalán llamado Juan Casamitjana. Estaba él recostado en la baranda de la ventana de la casa en que vivía cuando vio venir una numerosa comparsa que dirigían dos famosas mulatas de rumbo, una era María La O y la otra María de la Luz, que cantaban y bailaban una música electrizante. Impresionado el compositor por su baile fue al piano y repitió de memoria los compases de dicha música anónima pasándolos después al papel pautado (49).

[…] around those years in that city, there lived a Catalan musician named Juan Casamitjana. While leaning in the window of his house, he saw a large comparsa directed by two famous mulatas de rumbo, María La O and María de la Luz, singing and dancing an electrifying music. The composer was impressed by the dance and repeated the anonymous melody by memory in his piano, later transcribing it to music paper.
— "Cuban Zarzuela And The (Neo)Colonial Imagination: A Subaltern Historiography Of Music Theater In The Caribbean" by Henry W. MacCarthy

The second source was the Cuban novel "Cecilia Valdés" by Cirilo Villaverde. Lecuona had in fact set out to write his zarzuela based on this book, but when the Villaverde family refused to grant him the rights to the work, he and his librettist began revising the work.

Yet despite this tantalizing reference to a real-life Mariá la O, given that Casamitjana was writing the music for himself and that the incident occurred in 1836, 59 years before Lecuona was born, and nearly one hundred years before his operetta's premiere, it seems likely that the only definite "inspiration" the María la O from Santiago provided was in the use of her name for Lecuona's leading lady.

I also found one other curious reference by colonial music scholar Zolia Lapique. Speaking about the recurring popularity of the conga santiaguera, she says:

Algo similar a este fenómeno contemporáneo de la conga santiaguera ocurrió en 1852 cuando vino a La Habana la comparsa del Cocoyé con sus dos guías, las mulatas María de la O Soguendo y María de la Luz, junto al enanito Manuel que bailaba con el Anaquillé, muñeco de carnaval.

"Soguendo" is indeed a surname, if rather uncommon. Further research is needed to determine if the the surname of María la O from Santiago is known or has been lost to history. If it turns out to be Soguendo, I think a case could be made that the chorus "María la O, kuenda" is a corruption of her name. Until then though I believe the reverse is more likely to be true, as seen here.)

This article was inspired when I was trying to confirm the words to the coro in the video clip at the beginning, which contains another occurence of María la O that I was unfamiliar with, sung by Juan de Dios:

María la O
María la O
Banderillero africano
María la O, ¿quién es?

During the course of the discussion, a Cuban friend of ours, José Luís Gomez, made a great remark, which we will use to close for now (since topics like this are never truly finished):

"In the folklore and general music world in Cuba it has been a tradition to get inspired by personalities and characters that gave and still give color to our way of living... So maybe
she existed or not and at the end of the day I don't think that it's that important. The rumba María la O is a killer, the coro is fantastic and Juan really brings it in con chambo y mucho ibiano and that is what counts."