What is Cuba to me? Is it Ernesto Lecuona? Is it Ricky Ricardo? Is it mojitos and cigars? Is it Fidel Castro? Is it the Cuban Missile Crisis? It is all of these things -- a real place and a fantasy place -- a known place and an unknown place. I remember being in elementary school when Cuba "fell" to the communists. Then there was the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Bay of Pigs invasion. There were the images of Cuban boat people coming to the United States by any means possible--many perishing in the attempt. Recent images of Cuba reveal a country trapped in the 1950s in terms of cars, houses, and technology.
A major festival of Cuban Life is now taking place in New York and it has proven to be quite controversial, just as Cuba itself is controversial:
My first foray into the festival took place at BAMcafe on the last evening of April. The Latin Jazz pianist Arturo O'Farrill and his band, which includes two of his sons, gave a stupendous concert. It is O'Farrill's desire to continue the legacy of his father, the great Latin Jazz performer Chico O'Farrill, while still promoting his own identity, which is steeped in bebop, along with the emerging identities of his sons.
In jazz, whatever style, the personality of the performer is of utmost importance. It was so interesting to see how each performer (piano, saxophone, trumpet, bass, percussion) projected his personality while still meshing with the ensemble. Many so-called jazz musicians can play predictable riffs and function well as entertainers. The O'Farrill performers never took the easy road and thus revealed some true artistry. There was also never the feeling that everything had been so pre-rehearsed there was no going "out on a limb." This is what jazz gives its edge and its interest. The performers trusted each other.
From breathless flights of virtuosity, to amazing extended techniques, to complex polyrhythms and polytonality, and finally to sensitive points of introspection, the ensemble showed why they are at the top of their field. They did what they had to do to make the music happen. Everything had a musical purpose. The time flew by.
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