Ray Mantilla speaks: the main thing is to keep the music fresh

Latin Beat Magazine, Nov, 2002 by Luis Tamargo

Born in the East Bronx (of Peruvian-Puerto Rican ancestry) in the summer of 1934, percussionist Ray Mantilla has performed and/or recorded with innumerable jazz and Latin artists (Dizzy Gillespie, Joe Farrell, Miguelito Valdés, Art Blakey, Billy Taylor, Machito, Charles Mingus, Freddie Hubbard, Sonny Stitt, Tito Rodríguez, Noro Morales, David Amram, Max Roach, Tito Puente, Richie Cole, Bobby Watson), in addition to claiming his own discography (mostly released by Red Records).

I became acquainted with Mantilla's percussive artistry in 1977, when he gained significant international exposure as the only Hispanic member of the first large contingent of North American musicians invited to perform in Cuba since the early 1960s. Needless to say, many of his percussive peers in the Big Apple resented the fact that "a poor puertorriqueño who never learned how to write a word of Spanish" (as Mantilla described himself) was chosen for the holy mission. As Mantilla explains it: "Do you know how many cats would have given their congas up to have been there with us? It was a thrill beyond speech to have done what we did." My interview with Chino Pozo's most renowned disciple reflects the views of an artist who is deeply committed to the following ideal: "The main thing is to keep the music fresh."

LUIS TAMARGO: In terms of your musical knowledge, who taught: you the basics?

RAY MANTILLA: Chino Pozo, Johnny "La Vaca" Rodríguez, Alberto Socarrás ...

LT: It has been alleged by the way, that Socarrás recorded the first flute solo in jazz history.

RM: I didn't know that! Socarrás was the one who taught me a bit of solfeggio. I also learned a lot from Chonguito, a big black Cuban who played tumbadora with Tito Rodriguez's band. We're only an extension of other people before us. That's why we have to give them credit, although many of us forget to do so.

LT: When did you start your musical career?

RM: With Jose Budet's band, at the age of 21 or 22. I spent a number of years playing with Latin bands, before Ray Barretto got me a steady jazz gig with Herbie Mann in 1960. Deep down I'm a Latin player because I don't change that rhythm, even when I play jazz. I did learn from Ray (Barretto) that the tumbadora must be applied differently in jazz, in the sense that you have to keep it low and stay out of the way, that you must not obstruct the bass notes.

LT: Although you are mostly known as a tumbador, I recently became-aware that you played timbal in a landmark descarga session led by Barretto in 1962 (Latino!, Riverside).

RM: Yes, I was the first timbalero of his Charanga Moderna, it wasn't Manny Oquendo. I was always into Cuban music, and when I played timbal, I played like a Cuban. On the other hand, Tito Puente's solos were more Americanized. He was playing his own American style. That's where Willie Bobo got his style.

LT: I heard that Barretto and Lou Pérez were always fighting over you (laughter). In fact, you collaborated extensively with Pérez, the flute-playing leader of one of the most interesting charangas in New York's music history.

RM: I learned the concept of time with charanga bands. Time is a wonderful feeling, and I love and feel every beat of the time. Many guys don't know how to leave space between notes, but I like to keep it clean.

LT: You also paid your dues with one of the most underrated Cuban singers in exile, the funky ronco Monguito El Único.

RM: Yes. I worked asa tumbador with Monguito while La Vaca played bongó. It was a great band. That's why he was called El Único, I stayed for a long time in the salsa circuit, but the jazz scene treated me better, financially speaking. I hate to use the word "salsa" because it's really Cuban music. You can make your own version of it, like Tito Rodriguez and Tito Puente, but that's about it! You can't copy that. It's Cuban music! I played a lot with Chino Pozo, Chocolate, Chihuahua and the other Cuban cats.

LT: I bet that your career was drastically changed after embarking on that famous 1977 boat cruise to Cuba.

RM: Oh, yeah. The whole thing started when I got a call from David Amram, who asked me, "Ray, do you want to go to Cuba?" I replied, "Oh, my God! ... Wait a minute, man ... Cuba?" I was born in New York, but I knew that's where our music came from. I grew up listening to Cuban music and collecting all the records (Aragon, Los Papines, etc). Despite the initial surprise, I accepted David's offer. Many of the other conga players in New York were jealous and obviously pissed off (LAUGHTER). I was the only Latino musician in the delegation, but many gifted artists--Stan Getz, Earl "Fatha" Hines and Dizzy Gillespie--went along with me to Cuba. Upon landing in Havana, everyone was supposed to get on a bus because the Cuban officials only took you where they wanted to take you, but Dizzy got me off the bus to ask me to interpret what some Cuban guy was telling him. It turns out that the Cuban guy was Arturo Sandoval, who took us to Paquito D'Rivera's home. Paquito was not there, so Dizzy asked Arturo to take us to see some batá drummers, and we ended up in Pogoloti. Later on, we went to the Habana Libre (formerly known as Havana Hilton) Hotel, where a Cuban banal was supposed to play for us. Let me make a long story short: I had never encountered a band like Irakere in my entire life! When Arturo played his trumpet solo, Dizzy had to wave his white handkerchief and say, "Okay, you win. I give up, I give up!" (Laughter).