Mambo & The Civil War: Reenacting History

When my new work colleague, Stacey, told me that among the guests at her Halloween party would be her father-in-law - an avid Civil War reenactor dressed in full Confederate soldier garb - your resident mambo-phile admittedly felt a momentary pang.  Would this turn into a torturous evening of biting my tongue as my new friend and associate's beloved relative proceeded to explain to "po' lil' misinformed African-American me" that slavery really wasn't all that bad...?    "I'd have worn Blue if the party were above the Mason-Dixon," Michael Schwartz joked as I sat down, "but since my kids live in Virginia I figured I'd wear Gray!"  Laws-a-Mercy....  "Trick-or-Treat," indeed! 

Happily, what ensued was a positively delightful conversation about music, art and culture that struck me so deeply as to be the topic for my 're-launch' of the Mamb-O-phoniC blog. 

Like myself, Schwartz, who regularly makes presentations in-character for the Smithsonian Institution, is energized by helping people move beyond the limitations of past technologies, connecting them to the history as a living, breathing organism.  Making history relevant is no small feat in today's technologically-advanced world, where we expect everything to be instantaneous and in 'HD'.  Many of today's economy cars not only handle as well as sports cars of the 1970's and '80's, but they come equipped with an arsenal of power accessories that only 20 years ago were reserved for premium luxury automobiles. 

As the Civil War occurred well before the age of motion pictures or television, the massive costumed displays staged by Michael and his reenactor friends allow individuals to physically 'see' how people fought and struggled over one of the most divisive issues in our Nation's history.  As a broadcaster and lecturer focused on vintage Latin-jazz and mambo, my challenge is in helping people look past vintage fashions, frames-of-reference and recording technologies in order to connect with the importance of the history and the 'soul' encased within.

Just a few weeks ago a listener called me during my radio program after hearing Tito Puente's "Mambo Diablo."  Puente recorded this eternal swinger several times through the decades, but I played the original 1954 recording on the Tico label.  "Man, that was cool," said the caller!  "I love that tune, but I didn't recognize it being played so slowly."  ...Huh?

The comment haunted me and later in the week, I played the original Tico label recording back-to-back with the 1980's Concord Picante version, and they're roughly the same tempo.  In fact, many vintage mambo recordings are decidedly faster in tempo than contemporary Salsa versions.  I've regularly heard Salsa exhibition dancers indicate that one of the deterrents to choreographing to older recordings is that they're often too fast for the modern dancer's inclination towards complex spins and turns (versus the more footwork-grounded styling of yesteryear).  How could anyone perceive that tune as being 'slow'?

This actually supports a long-time observation of mine that it is the recording technology (or, lack thereof) which so drastically colors the modern listener's perception of vintage music (and their resistance to it).  To the contemporary listener if something sounds 'old', then it must somehow equal 'mellow' and, therefore, 'slow' - even if the metronome proves otherwise.  The 'flatter', less dimensional sound of monaural recordings demands that the contemporary listener partially 'imagine' the greater depth of sound they accustomed to.  Absent the clear separation between the various instruments, the listener must partially 'perceive' different instruments and sounds.  One doesn't so much 'hear' the tone of Candido's masterful palm striking the sheepskin on his ABC Paramount recording of "Mambo Inn", as one 'senses it'.  It's not a difficult skill, but it is an acquired one that - with so little vintage music being played on the radio or online anymore - where is one to practice?

Now 44, I was at the tail-end of an era when one's first 'entertainment center' may well have been an inexpensive hi-fi record player inherited from the folks.  So my ear will 'accept' hearing both monaural and stereo.  But for a child of the "CD age" - with stereophonic recording a universal given - listening to a vintage recording must sound like listening to music through tin cans and a fabric string.

It's not dissimilar to the generational divide among film buffs with regard to black and white versus color.  To a younger generation where color is the expectation, black and white imagery appears impenetrably 'old-timey' and unreal.  To the connoisseur, however, there's nothing more dramatic and 'pure' than watching the meticulously-crafted interplay of light and shadow upon the faces of Garbo, Garfield or Gardner (Greta, John or Ava, respectively).  Just as this attitude leads all too many younger film viewers miss out on the joys of cinema classics, with each passing year, more and more Latin music fans are developing with out a connection to the importance of the Joe Cuba Sextet, Jose Curbelo and Machito - let alone Aresnio Rodriguez and Orquesta Aragon. 
This is one reason why I reject the contemporary broadcast philosophy of only playing CD's or the most 'pristine' of stereo vinyl LP's on-air.  The pops and ticks aren't the music: just the technology.  Not unlike sitting down for a conversation with a Confederate soldier, the groove is still there to enjoy if you commit to listening deeply, and with sincerity.