Super Bowl XLIX vs 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'... Cha Cha Cha

Most of this weekend's Super Bowl XLIX parties will look like taffy-pulls compared to the free-for-all thrown by 'Holly Golightly'. It may have been 54 years ago, but the shindig hosted by Audrey Hepburn's character in Breakfast at Tiffany's  (Paramount, 1961) remains one of cinema's all-time great parties. Wall-to-wall 'characters' from statesmen to stevedores. Bad situations fostered by too much good liquor. Hostess Hepburn working the room in a cigarette holder and a toga by Givenchy. Hats aflame... sloshed Hollywood starlets falling face-down... Mayhem throbbed just underneath the veneer of glamour, just like the music that was fueling the party: The Cha Cha Cha (watch the clip below)! As danced in the heyday of its 'mainstream' popularity, the Cha Cha Cha was just fast enough to be lively, but temperate enough that you could dance it for hours on-end - savoring it like a fine, complex Cuban cigar. This in sharp contrast to the angular, jittery, Red Bull-driven 'dance-sport' version one sees today on 'Dancing With the Stars'.

An outgrowth of the Cuban danzón, the genre's invention is credited to violinist/musical director Enrique Jorrín in 1952, during his tenure with Ninón Mondéjar's Orquesta América. The Cha Cha Cha took its name from the sound of dancer's sandals on the tile dance floors of Havana, a sound mirrored by the insistent 'scratching' sound of the guiro. Originally performed by the violin and flute-led Cuban charanga orchestras such as those of Orquestas Aragon, America and Sensacion, it quickly adapted to the brass big band sound when it hit U.S. shores a couple of years later.

In his amazing collection of live and unreleased recordings, historian Joe Conzo (author of Mambo Diablo: My Journey With Tito Puente, and Puente's best friend of 40+ years) has crystal-clear live recordings of Tito Puente's band performing at the Palladium Ballroom from 1954. He shares these and other rarities as my regular guest every third Sunday on "Latin Flavor Classic Edition" (live-streaming on wpfwfm.org ). It's fascinating to hear the din of the crowd as they respond to this beguiling 'new' rhythm mere months, maybe even weeks after it would have arrived in the U.S.

The Cha Cha Cha enjoyed wide U.S. popularity during 'round one' (1952-56). Even Hollywood took notice as Columbia Pictures hedged its bets by using the same sets and script from "Rock Around the Clock" to make the Latin-dance themed "Cha Cha Cha Boom!," substituting Perez Prado for Bill Haley and the Comets. But in 1958/59, Cha Cha Cha had an enviable resurgence becoming a full-scale international phenomenon. It's infectious rhythm being liberally incorporated into genres from r&b and rock (Sam Cooke's 'Everybody Loves to Cha Cha Cha') to Motown (Marvin Gaye's 'Stubborn Kind of Fellow', Liz Lands 'Midnight Johnny', and "Little" Stevie Wonder's 'Contract on Love' are but a few classic examples).

As evidenced by this classic movie party scene, the Cha Cha Cha on film became the perfect subtle insinuation that the characters were getting their sexy-on. When Rock first checked out Doris's 'assets' in 'Pillow Talk', she was dancing the Cha Cha Cha. College kids Fabian, Tuesday Weld, Richard Beymer and friends <ahem> "dancing" from dorm room-to-dorm room <wink> in Blake Edward's 'High Time'...? Cha Cha Cha. Like 'Holly Golightly's' party, the Cha Cha Cha has staying power and a rhythm that just won't quit (...at a tempo that won't make you want to)!

Langston Hughes, "Killer Joe" Piro, and the Mambo

How did legendary African-American poet Langston Hughes come to be serving coffee to "Killer Joe" Piro, the renowned emcee and dance instructor at the Palladium Ballroom? Blame it on the Harvest Moon Ball! While the images might seem in-congruent on first glance, they speak to the vibrant multi-cultural cauldron of New York City in the 1940's and 1950's. They also reference other important intersections with the Latin-music scene.

A decade before he became the emcee and dance instructor at the iconic Palladium Ballroom, New York's 'Home of the Mambo' during the height of the craze, Frank "Killer Joe" Piro (Mar. 2, 1921 - Feb. 5, 1988) had his first taste of fame when he won the Jitterbug contest at New York's 'Harvest Moon Ball' as a 21 year old in the US Coast Guard in 1942. His nickname 'Killer Joe' stemmed from his ability to 'wear-out' a string of dance partners due to his sheer stamina. Among the 'prizes' was being re-assigned to duty as a dance instructor and exhibition dancer at the Stage Door Canteen, at which celebrities donated their time to rub-elbows with off-duty soldiers to boost morale during WWII.

Photographer Carl Van Vechten staged a series of photos designed to capture the 'vibe' of the Stage Door Canteen, featuring a range of celebrities chatting with and or 'serving' soldiers. Now in the collection of the Museum of the City of New York, several of the vignettes feature "Killer Joe" Piro, including these showing him clowning around, dancing jitterbug with U.S. Sailor Andy Mann, as 'Junior Hostess' Ruth Last looks on. But sharp eyes will notice that serving coffee on the far left is none other than legendary poet Langston Hughes. The photo references Hughes' having been discovered as a young man in the 1920's Washington DC while working as a hotel busboy (from which the noted DC cafe 'Busboys and Poets' takes its name).

While best known for his focus on capturing images of African-American entertainers, intellectuals and noteables of the Harlem Rennaissance, Van Vechten was apparently taken with young Piro's dancing skills as well as his bold, decidedly Italian features. Over the next couple of years, Van Vechten would photograph "Killer Joe" both in a solo/portrait setting, as well as in a few other 'Canteen' montages, with the likes of Broadway star Shirley Booth, and poet Owen Dodson.

In the late 1940's, "Killer Joe" Piro would become immersed in New York's burgeoning mambo movement. Initially hired by the Palladium Ballroom as an instructor (partly to stem his string of mambo dance contest wins), Piro would soon become the Ballroom's emcee. With his wild, head-bobbing antics and dynamic personality, Piro was the 'ring-master' for New York City's hottest dance-scene of the mid-1950's - the epicenter of the Mambo craze. The Palladium's fabled Wednesday night dance contests drew celebrities ranging from Marlon Brando, Eartha Kitt, Kirk Douglas and Kim Novak, to the crowned heads of Europe.

But there are other Mambo intersections hidden in this photo... In a further example of 'six degrees of separation' (or fewer), Langston Hughes frequently collaborated with noted African-American pianist/ composer Margaret Bonds (March 2, 1913 - April 26, 1972), who would set many of his works to music. At the very time this photo was taken, among her prized students would have been a young Charlie Palmieri (Nov. 21, 1927 - Sept. 12, 1988), a child prodigy who would become one of the great pianists and bandleaders of the Mambo-era and beyond. In an interview on my radio program with his younger-brother, Grammy-winner Eddie Palmieri (b. Dec. 13, 1936) revealed that he too would later study with Ms. Bonds (at left in a 1956 photo by Van Vechten), and credits her with providing the training which under girds both his and his late brother Charlie's acclaimed piano skills.

Piro would parlay his association with what would soon come to be called the 'Jet Set' into even greater personal fame. To many, he became the face of the 'Discotheque' movement (drawing its name from small European dance clubs rooted in the then-novel practice of dancing to DJ's in-lieu of more expensive live-bands). By the mid-1960's, Piro was frequently featured on the top TV variety shows and in countless magazines demonstrating dances such as The Frug and The Watusi to the likes of First Daughter Linda Bird Johnson. Coming up with the dance 'The Mule' to promote the Smirnoff cocktail of the same name, Piro was prominently featured in a series of ads for Smirnoff vodka, photographed by Richard Avedon alongside top arteurs, scene-makers and beauties of the day, ranging from Woody Allen to Julie Newmar. "Killer Joe" Piro passed away in 1988.

Brigitte Bardot, Patato and the Mambo: The Soundtrack for Sensuality

Percussionist Carlos 'Patato' Valdes (far right) with Brigitte Bardot
in the iconic mambo scene in 'And God Created Woman.' (1956)

Performing a torrid, barefoot mambo atop a cafe table, Brigitte Bardot, who turns 80 today, became an international cinema icon in that unforgettable scene from her breakthrough 1956 film 'And God Created Woman.' Every bit as much as Bardot pushed the boundaries of sexuality in late-1950's/early-1960's films, most cinema buffs are un-aware that another performer in said scene changed how the world experiences rhythm: Carlos "Patato" Valdes (video below)!

Brigitte Bardot and Kim Novak at Cannes Film Fest, 1956

Ava Gardner, Kim Novak, Grace Kelly... After decades under the strict Production Codes which constrained American filmmakers, the typical 'love goddess' of 1950's U.S. cinema had become just that: an 'untouchable' figure of unattainable loveliness. Mind you, I'm great fans of each of the above actresses, but their 1950's films barely hinted at any actual display of true human sexuality, to say nothing of anything remotely carnal in nature. Only in a 1950's American film could the leading lady awaken from the 'implied' night of passion with narry a smudge to her maquillage and her coiffure 'salon-perfect.' But leave it to the French...! Along came Bardot and the Mambo, and the game began to change dramatically over the next decade (for better or worse, depending on your outlook). And as discussed previously in various 'Mambo-phoniC' blog posts, Mambo was virtually 'the soundtrack for sensuality' in films of the 1950's and 1960's.

So it isn't a huge surprise that the provocative rhythms to which Bardot was dancing were provided by none other than the legendary percussionist Carlos 'Patato' Valdes (Nov. 4, 1926 - Dec. 4, 2007). Having left Cuba in the early 1950's after establishing himself as a star with bands such as Conjunto Casino and Sonora Matancera, 'Patato' was quickly in-demand due to his innate musicality and sense of tone - performing and recording regularly with both Latin and jazz legends such as Machito, Billy Taylor, Perez Prado, Dizzy Gillespie and Tito Puente.

But as sterling as was his performing pedigree, it is perhaps his role as an inventor that has had the most sweeping impact. 'Patato' invented (and patented) the tuneable conga drum. Traditional nail-head conga drums used nails to secure the skin to the wooden drum, which could be 'tuned' somewhat by using a candle or sterno under the head of the drum. The visionary conguero had long been experimenting with securing the skin to the drum-head with a metal ring which could be adjusted with a square box wrench, allowing a conga player to tune his instrument as would a violinist or pianist. Perfected with mechanical engineer Martin Cohen (whom he'd met in the late-1950's while performing at Birdland with Herbie Mann), the 'Patato' model conga was introduced commercially in 1978 and remains a 'signature' conga for Cohen's highly-respected LP (Latin Percussion) brand of instruments.

Carlos 'Patato' Valdes was so much more than a great percussionist, opening up infinite harmonic possibilities for the instrument, which in addition to Latin-jazz and salsa, is now utilized in every genre from punk rock to Country music. Likewise, Brigitte Bardot was of course much more than pouting lips and wriggling hips, as evidenced by her decades of dedication to animal rights. We salute this pioneering actress on her 80th birthday! How she'll top the party with 'Patato' captured on-film in 1956 I can't imagine!

Augie & Margo: Hindsight, the Media and the Mambo

I've been waiting for just the right topic with which to break my long hiatus from my 'Mamb-O-phoniC' blog. That topic presented itself during a spirited discussion on my radio program's Facebook page. Regrettably, that discussion surrounded the reputed Friday, June 18, 2014 passing of legendary Palladium-era dancer Agustine 'Augie' Rodriguez - the male half of the legendary dance team of 'Augie and Margo' (note: I have since confirmed Mr. Rodriguez' passing with his nephew Jose Madera, co-leader of the Mambo Legends Orchestra and a 30+ year veteran with the Tito Puente Orchestra. Mr. Rodriguez' widow, Margo, is Mr. Madera's aunt on his father's side. My deepest condolences to Margo Rodriguez and the entire family).


After reading the varied Facebook tributes and posts, it is true that none of them appeared to 'absolutely' confirm Mr. Rodriguez' death with first-hand knowledge. Thus, an interested and well-meaning listener posted the following comment:  "I can't find any reference to his death on any web search I've done. If he [Augie Rodriguez] is that significant, it would have been mentioned by now."

Or would it...? I certainly understand the assumption. In the internet age, when the slightest jiggle of Kim Kardashian's left cheek sets Twitter ablaze, it would stand to reason that - if an individual were truly 'significant' - their story would instantly be all over the web. In this case, the Rodriguez family appears to be taking the time they need to make a formal announcement about a deeply personal loss. But it is the latter portion of the listener's comment above which raised the intriguing question: Does media coverage truly equate with cultural impact, professional accomplishment or artistic skill? And how does the short memory of the celebrity-machine impact the measure of an artist's 'significance' when it comes to marking their passing - particularly as it pertains to performing artists of color?

In the context of the 1950's and 1960's, Augie and Margo were about as highly-acclaimed as a nightclub dance act could get. They first gained fame at New York's Roseland and in particular, the fabled Wendesday night Mambo Shows at the Palladium Ballroom. Studying both at Carnegie Hall and with the iconic Katherine Dunham, Augie and Margo left audiences slack-jawed with their distinct fusion of mambo with the precision training of ballet and modern dance - somehow also retaining the mambo's core frenzied abandon. As the Palladium's Wednesday shows in particular drew the Hollywood and Broadway celebrity set, it is accepted in dance circles that their work influenced Broadway legends-to-be like choreographer Bob Fosse (a fellow dance-school classmate). They helped take the mambo national with their appearances on The Tonight Show, Steve Allen, Perry Como and other top variety shows. In one particularly eye-popping vignette, Augie and Margo performed a torrid, dervish-like mambo on the rooftop of the newly-opened Havana Riviera Hotel, in a 1958 telecast of the Steve Lawrence Show. By this point, they were regularly opening for and performing in major revues with the greatest headliners of the day: Harry Belafonte, Liberace, Judy Garland, Johnny Mathis, Jerry Lewis, Lena Horne, Patti Page and Jack Benny. They were fixtures of the early 'Rat Pack' performances of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. In fact, Davis engaged Augie and Margo for twelve consecutive years as his 'Supporting Stars,' opening his performances around the globe. They danced by request at the White House for both JFK and Richard Nixon, and did a Royal Command Performance for Queen Elizabeth of England.

So, while not 'superstars' per se, Augie and Margo were very successful, highly-respected, nationally-known, and - as they literally introduced spins and slides that are part of the salsa repertoire to this day - they were definitely 'significant.' But in contrast to other disciplines, such as sports and the sciences, time has a habit of obscuring the accomplishments of performing artists - changing the narrative the more chronological distance there is from the era in which they made their mark.

When a sports icon like Mickey Mantle or Joe DiMaggio passes away, their long-ago accomplishments are allowed to stand on the merit earned in the context of their time. Appropriately, their achievements are celebrated as 'front-page news,' even when their 'statistics' may have long ago been eclipsed by subsequent players. Not so in the popular arts. For example: in the late-1930's and early 1940's, there were few box-office stars bigger than singer/actress Deanna Durbin. An Oscar-awardee with the largest fan club network in the world, in 1946 Durbin was America's second highest-salaried female (beating out Bette Davis for the top spot in 1947). If measuring her status within the context of her time (as we do for sports figures), her passing should have been front-page news. But tastes have changed so dramatically since the mid-1940's, and Durbin's light-operatic vocals don't feel 'relevant' to today's audiences and cultural arbiters. Thus, Durbin's passing in 2013 received only the obligatory 'tag-line' mention at the end of the evening news.

The situation becomes even more complex when it comes to yesteryear's performers of color, whose 'valuation' occurred during an era of overt and institutionalized racism and limited access to media. So rare were appearances by artists of color, whole communities stopped what they were doing as word spread that Chita Rivera, Barbara McNair, or Ricardo Montalban were merely making a guest appearance on a variety show. And when it concerned a person of color hosting a program, even a recording superstar such as Nat 'King' Cole experienced difficulty. With no national sponsor willing to stand up to the potential repercussions from Southern markets, Cole's show was cancelled just months into it's second season. As Cole famously quipped: "Madison Avenue was afraid of the dark." It's not that Cole wasn't a big enough star to warrant a TV show (he was); it wasn't that 'audiences weren't interested in the Nat Cole show' (the ratings were solid); but rather - in 1957 - the social construct of the era dictated the level of popular celebrity that even a superstar such as Nat King Cole could attain. As such, it also impacts our 'valuation' of these artists today (ie: if they were popular, wouldn't they have: made more movies; sold more records; headlined at 'X' club..., etc).

They say 'Hindsight is 20/20.' but I would contend our estimation of the past can be altered by which mirror you use, and the angle at which it's held. Today, it's too easy to forget the other factors which play into how we take stock of the artists who brought us to where we are. The commercialization of the popular arts can obscure the achievements of true pioneers, as they are being judged and quantified by a popular culture that has 'moved on'. Ironically, the advances that they helped to bring about can unjustly obscure their relevance to the very public that is the beneficiary of their artistry. That's why it is critical to continue to celebrate our icons and to keep telling their stories.

Esther Williams: Underwater Rumbera

It's official. With the passing of Esther Williams, the 'Old Hollywood' of legend is all but a memory. It's hard to imagine today, with the infinite possibilities of today's computer-generated imagery (CGI), but from the mid-1940's into the mid-1950's, the sheer novelty of Esther Williams' underwater escapades in glossy musicals at MGM Studios made her one of the worlds most popular film stars. As Latin music figured so prominently in several of her films, Mambo-phoniC takes a look at the rhythmic impact of this underwater rumbera.


Before we even see Esther Williams, the opening sequence of her first staring film, "Bathing Beauty" (1944) features Xavier Cugat and his Orchestra, performing  poolside at a glamorous resort on a sun-drenched day. Performed here by Lina Romay, the song "Bim Bam Bum" by pianist Noro Morales became one of the most popular rumbas of the 1940's.

An appearance in an Esther Williams MGM musical was the equivalent of 'going viral' on the internet today. And most musicologists acknowledge that Hollywood's fascination with Latin music 'flavoring' in films of the 1940's (a direct result of the WWII 'Good Neighbor Policy'), helped 'prepare' U.S. mass audiences for the more 'robust' sounds of Mambo and Cha Cha Cha of the 1950's.



Later in this same film, Esther is serenaded by Carlos Ramirez, performing Maria Grever's exquisite "Te  Quiero Dijiste" ("Magic is the Moonlight"). A beautiful song originally published twelve years earlier, the presence of "Magic is the Moonlight" in this film turned it into a massive crossover hit, that remains an American 'standard' to this day. In an age when interracial casting was nearly unheard of on 'dry-land', Esther Williams underwater fantasy world was considered enough of a 'buffer' that she was paired with numerous Latino leading men such as Cesar Romero, Ricardo Montalban and Fernando Lamas (with whom she fell in love and married in real life).



Yes, there are many great stars of the 1950's and the 1960's still with us: James Garner, Kim Novak, Sidney Poitier and Leslie Caron among them. But these were considered 'newcomers' compared to the stars created during the heyday of the Hollywood 'Studio System' of the 1920's, 30's and 40's - all-controlling,  entities like Paramount, Universal, RKO, Columbia, and Warner Brothers, which literally found and cultivated not only personalities, but helped shape the tastes of the nation from fashion to music. And of course, MGM was the queen of the studios.

How powerful was MGM? Well, they turned a champion swimmer into a household name (Williams was slated to compete in the 1940 Olympic Games, had they not been cancelled due to the outbreak of WWII). A smart and savvy businesswoman, Williams went on to make more millions marketing swimwear and pools for decades after her film career faded in the late-1950's. Perhaps more importantly, in an era when women feared that serious exercise would make them look 'unfeminine', Esther also was among the first female stars to incorporate serious athleticism and health into the conversation of glamour and beauty, decades before the 'health craze'. While there were arguably more 'beautiful' stars in the 1940's and '50's, Williams exuded a radiance that came from being truly healthy (as her mostly active 91 years attest), not the elaborate maquillage painted upon the faces of most other stars of her generation.

Today, when personalities fade into oblivion after a good four of five year run as a 'superstar,' the power of personality created in 1944 out of spandex, sequens and some plaster seahorses makes one realize the massive power of the 'Studio System.' Below are a couple of my favorite Esther Williams production numbers, including including the cheerily-sinister fire & water sequence in "Million Dollar Mermaid" (1952), and the 1953 water skiing extravaganza filmed on-location at Florida's Cypress Gardens for "Easy To Love" (btw... Esther was PREGNANT at the time, and still did her own stunts). Both staged by famed Choreographer Busby Berkley, if you've never seen one of Esther's movies, treat yourself to viewing these clips! Hail and farewell, Esther. You gave us decades of joy. And as for 'Hollywoodland'... R.I.P.

Tito Puente and the Mambo: Sound of the Divine

We've all faced challenges lately, which makes me all the more grateful for this year's  blessings. After exactly two decades, I had the opportunity to reconnect with and present the awe-inspiring 20-member Mambo Legends Orchestra (essentially, the former Tito Puente Orchestra) in a concert glowingly-reviewed by The Huffington Post. That same day, I welcomed the amazing Joe Conzo - Tito Puente's biographer, archivist and best-friend of over 40 years - as my guest panelist for the season three-finale of 'Metro Mambo' - my Latin-jazz lecture series for the Smithsonian Institution.

As a result of that collaboration, Joe agreed to become a regular guest on my radio show for a segment called the 'Metro Mambo Time Machine'. To my delight and astonishment, Joe has generously agreed to share gems from his renowned private collection of ultra-rare vintage recordings by everyone from Tito Puente and Machito, to Orquesta Broadway and Arsenio Rodriguez. Rarest of all are reel-to-reel recordings made live in the 1950's, 60's and 70's at venues such as the Apollo, the Band Box, The Beacon Theatre, Birdland, and the Palladium Ballroom - New York's fabled 'Home of the Mambo'.

The segment debut was on October 28, in tandem with the release of his latest endeavor, as executive producer for Sony Music Latin's boxed-set "Quatro: The Definitive Collection" - a beautifully presented re-mastering of four classic Tito Puente albums of the mid-1950's through early 1960's - appropriately displayed above on the 1961 Webcor Overture Silhouette Stereo console (...and the word 'albums' is correct, as it has been released both on CD and in real, high-quality vinyl). In addition to writing the liner notes, Joe provided the content for a fifth 'bonus album' featuring multiple out-takes from the recording session for Pa' Los Rumberos from Puente's classic 1956 album "Cuban Carnival."

These out-takes and live recordings are a critical reminder of the virtually lost craft of 'live' recording. Today, musicians often record their respective segments individually, only committing the perfect track to the completed whole. Sometimes, the musicians can be hundreds, if not thousands of miles apart from one another. How refreshing to hear the misfires, flubs, and even Puente's exasperation - reminding us not only of the hard work involved, but also of the bonding between 15, 18 or 20 individual artists as they struggle collectively to create the gift of something truly fine.

That level of quality contains another rare ingredient: time. Before hearing the familiar studio recording of Mambo Gozon from Puente's landmark 1958 album "Dance Mania,"we played Joe's un-released live recording of the tune - from two years earlier(!)  It's a little slower, sans vocals - but with the addition of instrumental jazz solos(!).  All of our favorite vamps and breaks are in evidence, but differently ordered or inverted.  Recorded at El Patio Club on Atlantic Beach on Long Island, New York, Joe confirms it as the club at which, Joe confirms, Puente first performed with his own band in 1949 (sharing the bill with a young Tony Bennett). But it confirms that Puente didn't just write a tune and run into he studio.  Actually, he'd been work shopping Mambo Gozon for two years - polishing it to a deep, rich lustre -  before taking it into the RCA-Victor studio's for the then highly-expensive recording process.

At times, hundreds of dancers would just stand in awe, transfixed as the Mambo Legends Orchestra performed a range of new works and Palladium-era classics at Artisphere in Arlington, Virginia back in September. These vintage recordings underscore why. The Band is a direct link to a bygone era of artisanal music, crafted live by musicians committing actual skin, breath, blood and bone to its creation. Without any computerized tricks, the presentation is so perfect as to be almost otherworldly. Just as on Puente's classic albums like "Dance Mania" and "Night Beat," the MLO sounds almost like an Organ - as if the musicians were being manipulated in-unison by one instrumentalist 'playing them' via a keyboard.  Watch and listen....

Hearing the Puente out-takes from "Quatro" - and Joe Conzo's early live recordings allowing us to hear the classics of Latin-jazz literally being born - reminds us not only of the majesty of 'El Rey', but also of the meaning of true artistry.  The synthesised 'perfection' achieved today through computer chips will always sound hollow. Disconnected.  Nothing can compare the sound of artists who take you with them in their passionate pursuit of that perfection - and getting close enough to connect us to the Divine.

P.S.: So where in the heck has Mambo-phoniC been? Ahhhh..., the best laid plans of mice and men - and mambo. How diligent I was going to be, I said back in the Spring, about keeping up with Mambo-phoniC! Well.., one job restructuring, a major car accident, three consecutive surprise interim assignments, a derecho storm, and two home mortgage refinancing's later, and well... I'm still here, and so are you. And we're blessed to be here.  So..., here is the next monthly installment of Mambo-phoniC!

The Oscars and the Mambo - Rock Around The Clock Goes Latin (Scene 3)

As we approach Academy Awards weekend, I turn my 'mid-century modern mambo spotlight' on two of my favorite examples of the use of mambo in Hollywood films:  the rock & roll cult-classic 'Rock Around the Clock' (Columbia, 1956), and it's mostly forgotten (and until recently, unavailable) companion film, the Mambo-centric "Cha Cha Cha BOOM!".

Most people forget that Mambo played a critical role in "Rock Around the Clock," as did pioneering actor and west coast bandleader Tony Martinez. Far from being derided, Mambo is presented by the talent scouts in the film as a popular genre enjoyed by young folks that is already 'established'.  Mambo isn't dismissed as 'old folks music' in Tony Martinez' scenes.  Conversely, the 'kids' on the dance floor all know and love the mambo.  During one critical scene, Martinez is paid by the promoter to have his band play all boleros and ballads, so that the rock and roll band sounds 'hotter'.  Then, after Bill Haley and his Comets play their number, Martinez tells his band to turn on the heat, and the kids jump right up and mambo like mad. 

What's even more telling is that Columbia made a companion musical film called "Cha Cha Cha BOOM!".  Using the same leading lady (Alix Talton), and even the plot of a talent scout seeking to find the next big craze, "...BOOM!" featured Mexican bandleader Luis Arcaraz, West coast charanga pioneer Manny Lopez, and Latin music superstar Perez Prado!  Watching the clip below, you'll even see some of the same sets!  The very fact that the film was even made is a testament to the impact of the Mambo craze in the early 1950's.  The film was produced shortly after Prado had scored one of the biggest hits of the first half of the 1950's with 'Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White" (which held the #1 spot on the pop charts for 10 straight weeks).   "Cha Cha Cha BOOM!" is a great demonstration of the fact that - in mid-1955 - for a film studio to ignore Mambo was leaving potential money on the table.  The original posters proudly proclaim "Made by the producers of 'Rock Around the Clock'!"

However, it soon became clear that the 'easy-money' was following the rock & roll trend.  "Rock Around the Clock" was a huge hit, and soon inspired innumerable knock-offs by producer Fred F. Sears and others.  Meanwhile, despite decent reviews (especially for dancers Dante De Paulo and Sylvia Lewis), "Cha Cha Cha BOOM!" was all but dumped onto the market and soon forgotten.  In fact, it was mysteriously unavailable for years after a brief clip turned up in the PBS documentary "Routes of Rhythm." in the early 1990's, only to suddenly reappear a couple of years ago, much to the delight of fans of Latin music.

Neither of these movies could possibly be considered examples of great film making.  But as historical documents, both contain other layers of information much deeper than one would expect.  Tony Martinez' band in Rock Around the Clock features rare footage of some of the pillars of the west coast Latin-jazz scene: Freddie Aguirre on timbales; Carlos Mejia on bongo; Rafael Vazquez on bass; and the legendary pianist Eddie Cano!  One of the first Latinos with a regular role on a prime time series (the popular 'The Real McCoys'), Tony Martinez originated the role of 'Sancho Panza' in the Broadway hit Man of La Mancha, and appeared in touring productions into the 1980's).  In addition to a rare Hollywood film appearance by Perez Prado, "Cha Cha Cha BOOM!" also features Mexican bandleader Luis Arcaraz, and a rare film appearance by west coast charanga pioneer Manny Lopez, to whom your blogger had the great pleasure of giving a copy of the film to watch for the first time in 52 years. 

Because of the way art and culture are packaged and sold in the U.S., Latin music fans often miss out on some great screen moments of authentic mambo music.  Often, great examples are hidden in plain sight.

The Oscars and the Mambo: Cross Body Leads (Scene 2)

Not unlike a trompe l'oeil painting, many vintage Hollywood films posses their own brand of perspectival illusionism.  At first glance, the film may seem 'one-dimensional' as they deal with Latin music and/or characters.  Sometimes, however, the more you look, the more information can emerge from the confines of the screen.

One good example is "Criss Cross" (Universal, 1949), a rather well-known film noir crime drama by director Robert Siodmak.  The film stars brooding Burt Lancaster and stunning Yvonne DeCarlo, long before her days as ghoulish 'Lilly Munster' of mid-1960's television fame.  The viewer is first introduced to DeCarlo's character, 'Anna', when recent parolee Lancaster spots his old flame doing the rumba in a crowded, smoky little Los Angeles dance hall.  The band, which thankfully received billing in the credits, is led by virtuoso flautist Esy Morales, brother of legendary bandleader Noro Morales. 

Esy was considered among the most gifted flautists of the 1940's.  Adept in classical, jazz and Latin genres, he performed to acclaim at Carnegie Hall (his version of 'Flight of the Bumble Bee' was legendary), and recorded widely on labels such as Decca and RCA-Victor.  The legendary Tito Puente named one of his more memorable early Latin-jazz numbers 'Esy,' upon the 43 year old flautist's premature death of a heart attack in 1950.  For this reason alone, this clip is a treat.

But a dramatic close-up during a relatively lengthy piano solo reveals even more to the astute viewer.  The pianist driving delectable DeCarlo into a dance floor frenzy is none other than the legendary Rene Touzet, one of the greatest Cuban composers of his generation.  Touzet's many hit compositions include "Mi Musica Es Para Ti," "Tu Felicidad (Made For Each Other)", and "No Te Importe Saber" (recorded as "Let Me Love You Tonight" by Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra and other top pop vocalists of the era).  Touzet relocated to the U.S. in the early 1940's, and by the mid 1950's was among the top Latin bandleaders on the West Coast scene (a staple at promoter/dj Chico Sesma's legendary 'Latin Holiday' dances at the Hollywood Palladium).  As an added bonus in this film, Yvonne DeCarlo's dance partner in this scene is none other than future top 1950's heartthrob Tony Curtis, in one of his first screen appearances.  A decade later, Curtis would be at his peak, co-starring with Marilyn Monroe in the classic "Some Like it Hot."

All too often early Hollywood films are 'written off' by Latin music scholars because they usually didn't contain 'big name' bands (a la Tito Puente, Machito, Tito Rodriguez...).  However, even the most unlikely films often contain a bounty of information and insight when you look deeper.

The Oscars and the Mambo - scene 1

While Latin-jazz and mambo have played a powerful role in Hollywood films through the years, some of the genre’s most powerful moments have not been in movie musicals.  Entertaining as they were, the commercial imperatives of big budget Hollywood musicals of the 1940's usually caused any semblance of authenticity to fall by the wayside.  But in dramas and mystery films, some pretty solid mambo groves have often been used to highly dramatic effect.  The fact that the films themselves were not necessarily "Latin" in theme or focus speaks to how deeply embeded Latin-jazz and mambo had become in popular culture from the mid-1950's onward.  As part of our own Academy Awards Countdown, Mamb-O-phoniC will showcase some mambo and Latin-jazz high-points in film history.

Take for example actress Dorothy Malone’s Oscar-winning portrayal of spoiled rich nymphomaniac 'Marylee' in the 1956 Douglas Sirk melodrama Written on the Wind.  A huge hit in the '50's, it is today acknowleged as the prototype for 1980's prime- time TV soapers like Dallas, Dynasty, and Falcon Crest. (example: accused by brother Robert Stack of being "a filthy liar!", 'Marylee' responds emphatically, "I'm filthy. Period! ").  Mambo becomes a powerful musical analogy for Malone’s “party girl-gone-wild” persona in two key episodes.  The first is a party scene where she laughingly leaves a staid Rock Hudson on the dance floor in favor or a more ‘spirited’ mambo partner (underscoring 'Marylee's' propensity to frequently 'change partners' in every way possible...). 

In one of the highlights of the film, Malone's 'Marylee' is picked-up by the local cops during a tryst at a seedy motel, and returned to the family mansion.  Drunk and unrepentant Dorothy sashays up to her room and clicks on her RCA-Victor hi-fi.  As she engages in a torrid 'mambo-striptease’ to the tune "Temptation," the camera shifts back and forth to her oil-baron father who - shamed by his daughter's wanton behavior - collapses and careens down the curved staircase to a bongo beat (click here to view both scenes)!

Solid, tipico music and expert dancing?  Hardly.  Authentic?  Yes, in demonstrating the immersion of Mambo in '50's popular culture.  Delicious and cinematically effective?  You bet your boxers!  Dorothy Malone had been languishing around Hollywood in second-leads and 'B-pictures' for more than a decade.  But these memorable mambo scenes helped her win that year's Oscar for "Best Supporting Actress," and to become - albiet briefly - a very big star in late-1950's Hollywood.

In the days leading up to the Academy Awards, tune-in to Mamb-O-phoniC for more installments highlighting the role of films in the immersion of mambo and Latin-jazz into popular culture (...and please, bookmark us and share "Mamb-O-phoniC" with your friends)!

    

New Year's Resolutions and the Mambo

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Popular culture would have us believe that on January 1, 1950, everyone in America under 30 awakened to discover rocket-inspired tailfins having sprouted on their cars, sheath dresses in their closets, and ‘rock and roll’ records on every turntable.  Well, um… No.  Remember, both the “Jets” and the “Sharks” were equally adept at dancing Mambo, the weapon of choice for their teen dance floor duel in the Broadway musical “West Side Story,” set in mid-1950’s New York City (watch it at the end of this article).  This vision of the 1950’s is every bit as valid as the one portrayed in the Milwaukee of “Happy Days” - and musica Latina was fully part of the scene.

Today’s listeners often mis-categorize Mambo, Cha Cha Cha, Pachanga and other Latin music genres as having been music for ‘older folks’, merely because they were ‘vintage’ by the time we came along.  But while they did have a cross-generational appeal, when they were new there was nothing more modern or hip.  Even looking at the old record covers is deceiving.  We now perceive the models in evening gowns and elaborate make-up as being 'older', forgetting that the style of the day was for women to look purposely mature and sophisticated (not the natural, perpetual-waif look prized today).  The 18 year old WWII Army sergeant of 1945 was a still ‘young’ 27 year old in 1954 - the year of the Mambo’s maximum impact on U.S. popular culture.  That individual, weaned on Swing, was far more likely to be inclined towards the sound of jazz-inflected, big band Mambo than rock and roll.  My father, a ‘Class of 1948’ Bebopper, played saxophone throughout northern New Jersey in the first band of Charlie Persip (later Dizzy Gillespie’s drummer).  For a young, urban man of the late-1940’s, R&B and rock & roll were alright - for children and ‘hicks’(!)  “Cool” was all about ‘Bird’, ‘Diz’ and “The Divine One,” Sarah Vaughn…, AND Tito Puente, Machito and Graciela! 

This New Year’s Eve, I wouldn’t imagine that many of you will throw away your iPhone or X-Box because “it’s so 2011.”  Life and culture aren’t that ‘cut and dry.’  Time tends to create exaggerated line of demarcation between decades that, then as now, flowed seamlessly from one to another with change coming incrementally.  The mass-market “American Graffiti” and “Grease” vision of the 1950’s shows the decade from only one point of view, with the cultural touchstones of an entire decade tied into a single, convenient bow of nostalgia.  But untie that bow, and that same ribbon – stretched full and straight - allows us to see the continuity between tradition and the future.  That’s real cause for celebration!

Happy Holidays and a Bountiful New Year from Mambo-phoniC!

Embracing Your Inner Boogaloo

40 years after its heyday, the boogaloo era remains one of the more controversial pieces of the popular Latin dance music puzzle.  Derided by purists, yet beloved by legions of  aficionados, the genre’s blend of Afro-Cuban rhythmic propulsion and funky R&B horn riffs were not only a bridge between the eras of Mambo and Salsa, but were also, for millions of non-Latinos, an initial portal into the wide world of Latin music.  Upon reflection, most every advance in popular 20^th Century Latin dance music was initially labeled the ‘death of the genre’ as it was then known. 

In the late 1930’s, Orestes and Israel ('Cachao') Lopez’ initial mambo innovations were considered near blasphemy against the hallowed Cuban 3-part structure.  Arsenio Rodriguez’ incorporation of the conga drum into popular Cuban music was to many a cultural revolution not unlike the Africanization of North American pop by r&b some 15 years later.  So controversial were Damaso Perez Prado’s jazz-infused arrangements for Cuba’s popular Orquesta Casino De La Playa that the pianist had to relocate to Mexico City.  There, with an audience more impressed by his swinging innovations rather than with dogged adherence to accepted Cuban musical structure, Prado became a superstar.  In segregated 1947 New York, the unprecedented interracial appeal of Afro-Cuban jazz pioneers such as Machito and his Afro-Cubans was such that riot police were sent to the barrier-breaking ‘Tico Tico’ dances at Manhattan Center, anticipating that the multi-racial crowd of 5,000 would certainly break into a riot (the only ‘riot’ was on the dance floor)!  Lo and behold, “La Musica” has survived all of these perceived ‘calamities’.

Occasionally, I'll hear my younger African-American brothers and sisters dismiss the venerable ‘standards’ mid 20^th Century American pop as “white music" (expressing a perception that such music has and/or had  little to do with them or their history).  But this view, skewed from our contemporary vantage point, is to totally discount the profound early influence of black music on U.S. pop culture.  After all, the ubiquitous Foxtrot was a staple of  black popular dance for a decade before the likes of ballroom dancers Vernon and Irene Castle made it ‘acceptable’ to the majority culture.  George Gershwin would be the first to admit that he borrowed liberally from the black vernacular to create his finest and most respected works.  Indeed, the foundation of U.S. popular music from the Roaring 20's through the Swing era was fueled and informed by African-American gospel, ragtime, jazz and blues.

Similarly, largely through the broad impact of boogaloo, Latin percussion became firmly a part of the American popular music landscape to such an extent that today, one is hard-pressed to find a rhythm section for any popular style – from rock and roll to country and western – that doesn’t incorporate congas, and/or shekere, and/or a cowbell.  To ‘reject’ mass popular off-shoots out-of-hand, is also to squander the Latino community’s claim to the sweeping impact of the genre on wider popular culture.  Given to the world willingly, it is nonetheless a gift that we should acknowledge giving.  Here's the legendary JOE CUBA SEXTET featuring Cheo Feliciano performing the 1965 classic, "Bang Bang"!

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.

Salsa Hues: Any Color, …as long as it’s Red (Hot)!

On their first North American tour in a decade, Sierra Maestra, the masters of contemporary Cuban Son, positively dazzled me during their July 19^th appearance at Artisphere in Arlington, Virginia.  It wasn’t so much for the virtuosity of their playing, apparent though it was.   Rather, it was the stunning array of musical ‘color’ and hue encompassed in their performance, and the way in which it inspired the dancers to truly let-loose.  It highlighted for me how ‘monochromatic’ mainstream contemporary Latin music has become.

Not unlike Henry Ford’s famous joke about the Model T Ford, the first mass-produced automobile, it seems that today, you can get Salsa in any ‘color’ – as long as it’s “Red”.  Hot.  Scorching.  Break-neck fast red.

Amy Winehouse and the Mambo.

The recent death of pop singer Amy Winehouse, allegedly from her well-documented struggle with substance abuse, was yet another demonstration of popular culture’s fascination with the tragic deaths of young stars.  Although there are examples of misfortune in every musical genre - including Latin jazz and salsa - rock and roll in particular appears almost to revel in an Artists’s complete and flaming self-destruction.  Immediately, the media pointed out that Winehouse had joined Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain and many others in the “27 Club” – a litany of rock stars who died at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.

Already, the Winehouse legend is being re-written: today the story is the tragic death of a tormented artist at the peak of her powers.  But just weeks ago, we observed a stumbling, wacked-out, and marginalized Winehouse being booed off of the stage in Serbia, at the start of her quickly-cancelled ‘comeback tour’.  In truth, although bursting with a natural talent, her career was decidedly in decline.  Had Winehouse not died tragically, had she merely limped along for another year or two of