Everything You Always Wanted To Know About The 1990s But Were Afraid To Ask

Latin Beat Magazine, Dec, 1999 by Luis Tamargo

The last decade of the 20th century was a time of conflict: Right-wing Reaganites versus left-wing Commies, baby-boomer turncoats versus Gen-X media zombies, soneros versus timberos, salseros versus merengueros etc. In view of such conflicting chaos, let's take one step at a time ...

SONEROS VS TIMBEROS: A CASE OF POETIC JUSTICE

Despite the emergence of Edesio Alejandro's imaginative acid-son and other creative alternatives, the 1990s could be described as Cuba's "Decade of Timba." The overwhelming popularity of timba (a.k.a. Cuban salsa) was generally detrimental. This two-headed monster- characterized by its vulgar arrogance, excessive tension and repetitive formulas-almost destroyed the joyful character of Cuban popular music, as well as its essential improvisational and lyrical components.

To a certain degree, the timba fever led to the extermination of native charanga and the neglect of homegrown jazz. Nevertheless, many of the Cuban jazzistas- Ernán López-Nussa (with or without Cuarto Espacio), Maraca & Otra Visión, Bellita & Jazztumbata, El Greco, Gabriel Hernández, etc.- launched their first solo recordings in the 1990s. After giving birth to yet another by-product (Havana Ensemble), Irakere- the greatest Latin jazz band of all time-maintained its prominent position through the entire decade, even after Chucho Valdés, instigated by the international success of Gonzalo Rubalcaba, left his son Chuchito in charge of the orchestral tribe in order to pursue a new professional chapter with a smaller and younger group. At the same time, we witnessed the arrival of Vocal Sampling, Gema 4 and other outstanding vocal organizations, while the descarga idiom was revitalized by Frank Emilio Flynn and the late Guillermo Barreto. Not to mention the multigenerational band led by Jesús Alemañy.

By 1977, Ry Cooder and his native guide (Juan de Marcos González) had rescued from shameful obscurity various phenomenal old-timers who were featured in the immensely popular Buena Vista Social Club and Afro-Cuban All-Stars recordings. It was a case of poetic justice: Compay Segundo, Ibrahím Ferrer, Rubén González, Pio Leiva and Raul Planas, among others, were responsible for the international boom of traditional Cuban music that motivated certain timberos to learn the ancestral patterns of the son montuno.

On the other hand, the average Cuban's daily trials and tribulations were documented in the sharp lyrics of the singer-songwriter Carlos Valera: "They'll teach you history/ And when the time comes/ They'll bandage your eyes/ Like they did to me". Such sociopolitical matters also inspired the satirical guarachas of the witty cantautor Pedro Luis Ferrer, one of those rare artists who do not compromise the integrity of musical expression.

The existing conditions forced many Cubans to vote with their feet in the 1990s. Most of the foot voters ended up in the United States. It is sufficient to mention a few of them: Arturo Sandoval, Juan Pablo Torres, Carlos Averhoff, Horacio "El Negro" Hernández, Oriente López, Manuel Valera Omar Hernández, Albita, Malena Burke, etc ...

PRETTY BOYS VS MERENBOOTIES: A CASE OF EPIDEMIC CANNIBALISM

When referring to Puerto Rico (and perhaps one could say the same about other regions of the Caribbean and North America), the 1990s could be defined as the Decade of the Pseudoromantic Pretty Boys and the Merenbooty Fifth Columnists. The prevailing plagues endangered the survival of meaningful forms of popular music in Borinquen, but the collective artistic vision was preserved by a handful of faithful Latin jazz devotees including Giovanni Hidalgo's early 1990s crew, Jerry Medina (Puerto Rico's response to Bobby Carcassés), Angel Olmos' Strings & Percussion, Charlie Sepúlveda & The Turn-around, Paoli Mejías & Check Mate, and David Sánchez.

Although the demise of salsa had been ratified by Rubén Blades, Helio Orovio, etc., the greedy merchants ignored the death certificates and placed their bets on the wrong horses, as usual. Puerto Rico became the manufacturing epicenter of the industrial production of light-skinned niños lindos, whose bubble-gum lyrics and homogeneous arrangements appealed to the former fans of Menudo. Sooner than later, a prefabricated version of Dominican merengue took advantage of the pretty boys' rhythmic deficiency and invaded the neighboring U.S. commonwealth and other unfortunate regions of our planet.

Back in the U.S. mainland, the creative spirit of Latin jazz was kept alive by Paquito D'Rivera, Michel Camilo and a few other veterans, whose accomplishments inspired the new clans of young musical warriors (Sonido Isleño, Viento de Agua, etc.) to explore distinctive stylistic paths.

The 1990s also signaled the rediscovery of forgotten musical pioneers of the Cuban diaspora, such as Israel López Cachao, and the late Mario Bauzá. Paradoxically, we also observed the rise of numerous U.S.-based Latin jazz artists that inaugurated their solo recording careers -Steve Berrios, Alex Acuña, Rebeca Mauleón, Michael Orta, Danilo Pérez, David Sánchez, Ed Simón, René Luis Toledo, Papo Vásquez, Ralph Irizarry, etc.