Cuando la música se vuelve religión. Prácticas y creencias de Mario Rivera - músico de República Dominicana - TT: When Music Becomes a Religion The Beliefs and Practices of Mario Rivera - TA: musician from Dominican Republic - Entrevista

Latin Beat Magazine, June, 2001 by Luis Tamargo

Born in Santo Domingo in 1939, Mario Rivera is one of the most distinguished Latin American reedmen of our times. During the past four decades, he has collaborated with a wide range of Latin and jazz luminaries, including but not limited to Tito Rodríguez, Eddie Palmieri, Machito, Chocolate, Dizzy Gillespie, Paquito D'Rivera, Giovanni Hidalgo, Dave Valentín, Chico O'Farrill, Mario Bauzá and Tito Puente, the latter of whom provided a steady source of employment for George Coleman's Dominican disciple since the early 1980s.

The following verbal exchange offers convincing evidence to prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that music is the one and only mistress of Mario Rivera...

LUIS TAMARGO: Could you identify your early jazz influences, back in Santo Domingo?.

MARIO RIVERA: The jazz influences in Santo Domingo came from the U.S. West Coast. I'm talking about Stan Kenton, Chet Baker, Bud Shank, Stan Kenton, Zoot Sims, Bob Cooper and the other white players from the Lighthouse crew. The jazz traditions of the U.S. black players didn't get any exposure in Santo Domingo back then.

LT: When did you arrive in New York?

MR: In 1961. Most immigrants come to this country looking for a better life, but in my case, there was a different primary motivation. In Santo Domingo, you see, I had been working at La Voz Dominicana with Tavito Vázquez's band. It was the best job available. Therefore, I didn't come to the U.S. due to economic problems, but motivated by the desire to play jazz. My Dominican passport didn't identify me as a musician, but as a bookkeeper, because they had a list of all the musicians employed by La Voz Dominicana at Santo Domingo's passport office. The trujillista regime didn't want to allow the native musicians to leave the country.

LT: How long did you work with Tito Rodríguez? Did he record any Latin jazz albums?

MR: I worked with his band from 1962 to 1966. Back in the early '60s, he recorded an instrumental LP (Live at Birdland, U.A.), that featured Clark Terry, Zoot Sims and other jazz musicians. Rodríguez played maracas or marimba on that particular album... In addition, his last recording (Memories of the Palladium, U.A.) included a Latin jazz tune.

LT: In your bandleading debut (El Comandante, Groovin' High/RTE 1993), you created a blend of U.S. jazz and Dominican merengue, although you had already introduced the tambora within a jazz context during your tenure with Dizzy Gillespie's United Nation Orchestra.

MR: Yes. I played tambora with the United Nation Orchestra on the Grammy-winning record Live at the Royal Festival Hall (Enja), recorded in England in 1989. I brought along my tambora whenever I traveled with Dizzy's band.

LT: I have become aware that your son, Phoenix Rivera, is an excellent jazz drummer.

MR: He is a great musician. I raised him by myself, along with his older brother, since he was a year and a half. I had to be father and mother at the same time. He is now 35 but he still stays with me. His true name is Pedro Elías, but he adopted Phoenix as his artistic name. Something similar happened to Elio Osacar and José Calderón, better known in the music world as Sonny Bravo and Joe Cuba, respectively (LAUGHTER).

LT: In his Diccionario de jazz latino, Nat Chediak describes your pad as "the ideal haven for the sleepless melomaniac in New York." Is this a correct assessment?

MR: What happens is that I live in New York as a European, in terms of my timetable. In my case, the day becomes the night and the night becomes the day. There are no vehicles on the street, there are no sirens at night. There is nothing that could block the inspiration. My home is like a musical laboratory because I have to accomplish so many things, I have to learn to play so many instruments. I spend all of my free time at home, practicing like a maniac, refining my chops. When they truly open the doors of Cuba, and all those ferocious Cuban musicians come over, I'm going to be one of the very few U.S. Latin musicians to survive the invasion. You know why? Because I was doing the same thing in New York that they were doing in Cuba without the resources that we take for granted on this side of the Florida Straits.

LT: It is well known that you are a follower of the teachings of José Ingenieros. How do you apply his philosophical outlook to your musical creativity?

MR: Ingenieros was a great humanist thinker who tried to educate the youth of Latin America through his secular lectures in the 1920s. He was an idealist champion of positivism, and I have a complete collection of his works. "Each hour, each moment must be wisely spent, either in labour or in pleasure," he wrote. This is why I play 24 instruments. When it comes to music, one must be actively militant. Music demands your entire attention and dedication. This also applies to literature, painting or whatever... If a musician is not willing to make that commitment, he will end up floating on a sea of turds, along with the other idle and mediocre characters.