Bobi Cespedes: the cuban earth with a beat: singer Bobi Cespedes updates traditional Afro-Cuban prayers and so her debut outing for San Francisco's Six Degrees Records

Latin Beat Magazine, Feb, 2003 by Jesse Varela

Since arriving in Berkeley in 1979, Cuban singer/songwriter Gladys "Bobi" Céspedes has proven to be a beacon for the musical traditions of her native Cuba. Working with Grateful Dead percussionist Mickey Hart and his Planet Drum in recent years, as well as with Bembé Orisha groups, exposed the talents of this Lucumí priestess to a wider global audience. A cofounder of the acclaimed Conjunto Céspedes, Bobi now ascends to a new plateau as an artist with her solo debut album Rezos, for the San Francisco-based Six Degrees Records.

Produced by Grammy nominated producer Greg Landau, the album is a tapestry of electro-acoustic colors. Fusing digital with traditional, she uses these colors to propel her soulful voice to intriguing heights. In mid-November 2002, as part of the Oakland Museum's "Una América, Nueva América/One America, New America," which coincided with "Arte Latino: Treasures from the Smithsonian American Art Museum," she unveiled an impressive new-millennium sound with a stirring performance at the museum's James Moore Theater.

Opening with a prayer to "Obatalá" with Isidro Valor on the batá drums, Céspedes' voice resonated with dynamic strength and clarity. The band included producer Greg Landau (tres/electric guitar), Julius Meléndez (trumpet), Rahsaan Fredericks (bass) and Marco Díaz (keyboards). But it was a lone laptop computer programmed by Degi Simmons, Céspedes' son--sitting center stage spitting out beats and bops--that was the innovative piece of the equation.

"I'm made up of African and Cuban blood. Whatever I do has my folklore and culture within it," said Bobi at a concert pre-talk. "But it's also important to stay connected with what's going on today. So I decided to mix it up in a way where everyone will listen. Perhaps those that have not heard orisha music before will hear it now, with a little beat behind it. You'll see in my lyrics and rhythms that it's nothing but what I've always done, with a little bit of something else."

Important to this idea is Landau's neo-traditionalist vision that crosses genres with ease. The tinges of hip hop, rock and jazz are evident on the title track in the recording, but in a "live" setting, it became a buttery son trumpet and a reggae-tinged chunky electric rhythm guitar. Unlike the Ritmo y Candela albums and his Sing The Real effort with Quetzal, Landau builds the music here around Céspedes' voice and stories with talented players, such as pianist Oriente López and drum programmer One Drop Scott. As a live performance, it was uncanny how well the humans grooved with machines as Céspedes kept it real.

The feeling of the blues on Anoche and the mellow guajira Como Te Extraño was on mark. The music felt good and people were dancing. Awoyo was dedicated to the deity of Yemayá, goddess of the ocean, and allowed Bobi's expansive open voice to fill the room. Singing in the Lucumí language, the spirit this priestess conjures is quite an experience. With majesty she maintains the ancient spiritual traditions and language of Ifá, the parent religion of santería, brought by enslaved Africans during colonial times.

"I can tell you that Lucumí, which is the language used the most in Cuba by those of African descent, is almost intact. Historians relate that Cuba is where it has survived the most. It serves as the liturgy, song and poetry of the Yoruba. Yet historically no one has said this is exactly how it has to be. Perhaps it's changed some in the language but the rhythms have been maintained and remain pretty much pure."

For Bobi Céspedes, whose joyous demeanor wins audiences every time, this is an important moment in her career. She's no longer the shy twenty-something singer performing traditional Afro-Cuban son with her brother Luis and nephew Guillermo at places like La Peña in Berkeley. Along the way she recorded an acclaimed string of albums with Conjunto Céspedes for Green Linnet's Xenophile label. But the Mickey Hart experience gave her the confidence to step forward as a solo artist with a music that goes beyond borders and is spiritually enriching.

"My experiences with Mickey Hart really helped. I thought I was only a sonera and could only do the music of Cuba. But what we did was all over the place. I saw people doing other things, adding beats, Indian music, etc., mixing it with this and that. But important for all was to be able to get on stage and jam in the same spirit. That feeling is crucial and must be passed on."