dirty linen

Juan de Marcos' Afro Cuban All Stars

By David Oancia Prieto

In November 1999, WOMEX, the international trade fair/music festival, presented its first-ever WOMEX Award for outstanding contributions to world music to Juan de Marcos and Nick Gold for Buena Vista Social Club. The recognition was timely: De Marcos has been one of the most overlooked figures in the whole Cuban music boom of the past few years. After being hired by World Circuit to record an album of 50s-style orchestra music, the Grammy-nominated Afro Cuban All Stars' A Toda Cuba le Gusta, he ended up working as the musical director for a series of records that have travelled the world over: Ruben Gonzalez' Introducing, Ibrahim Ferrer's effort, and the much-lauded Buena Vista Social Club. It was his groundwork that led the world to rediscover the joys of the old- time soneros. Even in Germany, land of Krautrock and art-damaged techno, those records have become the biggest selling commodity since Volkswagens; it is the place where son has sold the most discs in the world.

Nevertheless, as one can see from Afro Cuban All Stars' latest disc, Distinto, Diferente, Juan de Marcos is between a rock and a hard place. Whereas the award he received sealed his reputation in the rest of the world, a great part of the Hispanic intellectual community eyes him with a certain degree of suspicion, a man who took the root of his land's music and turned it into something the rest of the world could consume – with neither the cultural baggage nor the political content that so encumbered it when it first came about. As good and successful as the Grammy award-winning Buena Vista Social Club has proven to be – its greatest feature was that it reminded people where salsa came from – the cognoscenti derided it as a pre-revolutionary throwback, a record of Cuban music for those who don't speak Spanish.

"Buena Vista Social Club was a disc for non-Castellano speakers," agreed a sharp-as-a-tack Juan De Marcos, one of the most knowledgeable Cuban musicologists imaginable. "I love those records, I love acoustic music, and I love son tradicional. I've lived it and have it inside me. But the way Ry [Cooder] mixed it was to look for an agreeable sound for Anglo-Saxons; he was searching out a First World record-buying public. Additionally, the boom was based on three discs which were exceptionally well promoted by World Circuit, who did an extremely good job of marketing them, and which were equally well received by the press. Let's not forget that the difference between good and bad coffee is the quality, but the difference between good and great coffee is the marketing."

Conversely, the success of those records has also been a double-edged sword because most of the record-buying public ends up equating authenticity with the past and not the present. It has forced Cuban music into the secondary role of nostalgia. "All the records were exceptionally well done, but all were based on Cuban musical innovations from previous generations," added De Marcos passionately. "What there is now is based solely on the fashion of the old timers. Now that I've modernized the orchestra's sound, it's much harder for me to sell it. Now [that] I'm using both old timers and young blood, they are accusing me of changing the music."

This is an excerpt. Read the full article in Dirty Linen #88 (June/July 2000).


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