Interviews
Jazz En La Encrucijada: Los Pasos de Elegguá
Cada martes durante estas últimas dos semanas he visitado Minton’s. Ubicado en la calle 118 y la avenida St. Nicholas, está en el mismo corazón de Harlem. Ahí presencié los primeros dos espectáculos de una serie titulada “Jazz en le Encrucijada: Los Pasos de Elegguá”. Empezó el día 13 de mayo y continúa todos los martes hasta el 26 de agosto. Aquella primera noche fué todo un suceso con el grupo del baterista y compositor Francisco Mora Catlett y su AfroHORN. Es un grupo que toma su inspiración de los escritos del autor Afro-Americano Henry Dumas, y que ha sido aclamado como “una metáfora musical que explica la transición, un nexo, un sitio de negociación. Un lugar que une la diáspora a través de una experiencia compartida”.
La próxima presentación, “El Gallo Místico”, es el debút de un proyecto liderado por el maestro de la percusión tradicional Afro-Cubana, Román Díaz. Se destaca el alto calibre musical del pianista David Virelles con su estilo único, que de una forma u otra define la identidad de éste festival cuyo programa suele yuxtaponer presentaciones de artistas Cubanos, Argentinos, Brasileros y jazzistas norteamericanos.
Entre una tanda y otra pude compartír con Dita Sullivan, una de las curadoras de conciertos más aventureras en la faz de nuestro planeta. Conocí a Dita el año pasado en el Jazz Standard, dónde presentaba su serie “New Dimensions in Latin Jazz”. Ahí presentó la nueva oleada de jazzistas latinoamericanos en Nueva York, que si no fuera por ella nunca hubiesen pisado el escenario de un club de Jazz en Nueva York. Aquí les muestro su punto de vista desde el “Jazz en le Encrucijada: Los Pasos de Elegguá”.
Entrevista con la Curadora Dita Sullivan
Tomas Peña: Te felicito por “Jazz en le Encrucijada: Los Pasos de Elegguá”. Presentar una serie tan innovadora en este centro histórico del Jazz debe ser muy emocionante. También felicito a Minton’s por haberte dado licencia artística para presentar este maravilloso elenco.
Dita Sullivan: Bueno, estoy respondiendo en parte a ésta nueva iteración de Minton’s como fue concebido por Richard Parsons, el nuevo dueño, y Alexander Smalls, el Chef ejecutivo y co-creador, quien fue cantante de Opera ademas de ser un gran innovador culinario. Alexander ha viajado exténsamente por África Occidental cocinando y explorando la cultura. De ese viaje emprendedor ha creado una cocina nueva que demuestra el impacto de la diáspora Africana en este mundo, desde Asia hasta las Américas. En cuanto a la programación, me sentí obligada a tomar la iniciativa y traer música que combinaba con un menú tan sofisticado y complejo.
Tener la oportunidad de presentar este festival de música en Minton’s ha sido algo milagroso. No solo por el mero hecho de que sea un club legendario. El lugar que vió nacer el Bebop. También por la forma en que lo han restaurado. Es un oasis de elegancia: como estar en el paraíso del Jazz, o quizás como una escena de una película clásica sobre el Jazz. El salón tiene una acústica perfecta. La mejor que he oído. En cada rincón se oye el sonido a la perfección.
Originalmente me habían pedido que les presentara una noche de Jazz Latino, muy parecido a mi serie “Nuevas Dimensiones en el Jazz Latino” (New Dimensions in Latin Jazz), pero al contemplar la historia del club y la historia de Harlem (Viví en Harlem del 2000 hasta el 2004), quería hacer algo dónde se destacara la relación entre las culturas norteamericana y latinoamericana. Ahí nació el Jazz Latino, formando parte del movimiento renacentista de Harlem.
El título crea intriga y tiene carácter misterioso. Obviamente se trata de algo más que eso.
Si, tienes razón. Contemplando el impacto de la intersección de esas dos culturas me recuerda enseguida a la deidad Yorúba Elegguá, que es como un niño travieso. Es guardian de los cuatro caminos y de las puertas. El rige sobre el dominio del portal entre el pasado y el futuro. Ahí me acorde que el club hace esquina y me di cuenta que iba por un buen camino.
Elegguá es una figura clave dentro de la cosmología pan-Africana del nuevo mundo. Considera el mito del guitarrista bluesero Robert Johnson. Cuando fue a los cuatro caminos no fue ahí hacer un trato con Mefistófeles sino con Elegguá. Elegguá incorpora muchos caminos hacia la diaspora musical del África, el Caribe, New Orleans, Chicago y Nueva York . Esa serie de diásporas, una dentro de la otra, van guiando el trayecto del Jazz. Siempre con Harlem en su pináculo.
Mi misión en presentar lo que se le llama el Jazz Latino ha sido mostrar que ésas experiencias llevan un hilo que no es reconocido por la historia establecida del Jazz. Esa corriente Afro Caribeña, Afro-Latina que nace de el barroco, la cultúra criolla de ese nexo Caribeño que floreció en New Orleans. El Jazz Latino no es un afluente del Jazz sino el propio río. La fuente del Jazz en su primer instancia.
Pensando en eso me llevó de modo commodius vicus de recirculacion, a aquellas fuerzas con caracter de Elegguá que me iniciaron en esta música. Mario Rivera, el multi instrumentista Dominicano, conocido como el músico de los músicos y Mario Bauzá, también multi instrumentista ademas de compositor y director de orquesta quien fue el creador de la primera agrupacion de Jazz Afro-Cubano. Es dónde me di cuenta que para mi y para el mundo, esos dos Marios representaban a Elegguá. Mario Bauzá fue el arquitecto del Jazz Latino. El ha sido para la música lo que Frank Lloyd Wright represento para la arquitectúra y Mario Rivera un profeta de la proxima generación. Este festival fue inspirado en ellos dos y es para ellos dos.
Lo cual le da una pertinencia y a la vez es oportuno. Como fue que conoscistes a los dos Marios?
Todo ocurrio de casualidad. Yo estaba de regreso a Nueva York despues de haber vivído en Louisiana, y mi primo Bob, un músico, me llevó al Village Gate para Salsa Meets Jazz. En esa primera noche vi tocar a Mario Rivera y en ese instante cambio la dirección de mi vida. Llegue a conocerlo por mediación de presentaciones de música Latina todos los martes dónde Verna Gillis, en el Jazz loft nombrado Soundscape, presentaba musicos Latinos aya en el barrio de midtown en Manhattan. Ahí los que llevaban la música eran los hermanos Gonzalez, Andy y Jerry.
Eso de por si es una historia. Como la clausura del New Rican Village de Eddie Figueroa que tanto impactó a el Soundscape. A su merito, Verna Gillis lo recibió como uno de los mejores regalos que alguien le podia ver hecho. En cuanto a Mario Rivera, su banda los Refugiados de la Salsa (The Salsa Refugees) fue una de las dos bandas que emigraron hacia Soundscape. La otra fue Manny Oquéndo y su Conjunto Libre. Te imaginas?
Cada éra tiene su lugar de encuentro. Son esos lugares que definen una éra. Quizás el Bebop no hubiera nacido si no fueran por aquellas descargas todos los lunes en Minton’s durante los años cuarentas. Tuvo que ver la ubicación de aquellos clubs de Jazz en Midtown. El Royal Roost, y Birdland con su proximidad al Palladium, dónde los grandes del Mambo tocaban, facilitaba el intercambio entre músicos norteamericanos y latinamericanos durante los cuarentas, y los cincuentas. Slugs fue dónde el movimiento de el Free Jazz floreció durante los años sesentas. El Village Gate y Soundscape eran los dos sitios dónde el Jazz y la música Latina tuvieron sus encuentros durante los años ochentas. También eran los unicos lugares dónde se mezclaban el público norteamericano y latinamericano. Por ser tan segregado culturalmente, Nueva York en ésa época, lo mejor que tenía era la música Latina. Lo mismo la Salsa que el Jazz. Era un mundo secreto, prohibido para la mayoría de los Neoyorquinos. La actitud predominante se podia caracterizar como Hispanophobia. Lo se porque escribí sobre eso. Como periodista del Village Voice tuve que andar en cuatro patas sobre vidrios cada vez que se me ocurría escribir sobre una figura principal de la música Latina, porque el editor no sabia quines eran.
Mi transicion a aquel mundo secreto hubiera sido imposible sin aqueilos Lunes en el Village Gate y los Martes de Soundscape. También aquellas inumerables noches que amanecí en casa de Mario Rivera. Su hogar era una constante descarga musical y lugar de estudio, una puerta hacia un mundo embriagado no solo de música bella sino de cultura Áfro Caribeña. Bajo su direccion atravesé esa puerta y me convertí en escritora del tema de la música, documentalista, y eventualmente una productora de música en vivo.
Se rumora que habían instrumentos regados por toda la casa de Mario y que el los tocaba todos. Es verdad eso o solo un cuento?
Absolutamente verdad. Habían saxofones en sus atriles desde soprano al barítono. Flautas, trompetas, batería, tambora, hasta piano. Los tocaba todos espléndidamente. Si le preguntabas cuantos instrumentos tocaba te contestaba; todavia estoy aprendiendo. Nunca hubo un momento dónde un instrumento no se tocaba, a no ser que el estuviera dormido o comiendo.
Como conociste a Mario Bauzá?
Lo conocí cuando me tocó escribir un artículo sobre Rafael Cortijo, inmediatamente despues de su muerte. Mario fué uno de los músicos que me habló de él. Cuando aquello yo era la única escritora de habla inglesa cubriendo música Latina. Estuve escribiendo para el Village Voice; eso me abrió paso a una invitación a Cuba para un festival de música. Al llegar allí descubrí, para mi gran sorpresa, que Mario Bauzá y su obra eran casi desconocidos para el pueblo Cubano y sus músicos. Después de ese viaje fuí a ver a Mario para aprender mas sobre él. Era la persona más encantadora que he conocido. Me fascinaba. Había hecho de todo, sabía de todo, y hablaba de todo con elocuencia.
Eso se convirtió en mi escuela. De un Mario para el otro, y entre viajes al Caribe. A Mario Bauzá le gustaba mucho salir y me llevaba con él. La personalidad de Mario Rivera en cambio era completamente lo opuesto. Casi nunca salía de su casa. A no ser que tuviera que ir a trabajar, todos iban dónde el. En una noche en su apartamento podías coincidir con Tania Maria, Hilton Ruíz, y Giovanni Hidalgo o cualquier jazzista norteamericano y músicos Dominicanos tocando atabales, aquellos tambores indígenas de la Hispaniola. Las combinaciones eran infinitas.
Lo que tenían en común los dos Marios, aparte de ser grandes músicos, era que los dos eran erudítos e innovadores intrépidos. Adoraban la música tradicional al igual que el Jazz moderno, el avant garde, y lo emplearon todo en su música. Quize que este festival sirviera de homenaje para ellos, representando el paladar diverso de todo lo que hacían y lo que les agradaba.
Eso explica el elenco tan progresista.
Sí. Una forma más convencional de rendirles homenaje sería hacer un concierto dónde figurara la música de cada uno, pero más bien lo que yo quería era ofrecer conciertos que tuvieran que ver entre ellos en toda su complejidad y que a los dos Marios les hubiera gustado asistir.
La presentación de esta semana, “El Gallo Místico” es una nueva obra. “El Gallo Místico” es una celebracion del aniversario de la República de Cuba( 20 de mayo de 1902), creada específicamente para este festival por el maestro Román Díaz. Es una interacción entre el baile, y el tambor ritual de las potencias culturales Yorúba, Kongo, y Carabalí, con un Jazz improvisado brillante representado por el piano de David Virelles. “El Gallo Místico” representa la conmovedora sinergía entre lo tradicional y el avant-garde, caracterizado por el movimiento Negrista y el Afro Cubanismo de los años veintes y treintas dentro de la cultura Cubana. Ésta noche vimos algo sin precedente en toda la historia del Jazz Neoyorquino. La presencia de África con toda su potente magia cuando Román Díaz, con sus tambores y canto invoca el Ireme, bailador enmascarado sagrado de los Abakuá. Este ritual es la fuente del Jazz, el estado extático de posesión, la comunicación directa con las deidades del panteón Occidental Africano que nunca se pueden olvidar.
Lo presencié y nunca había visto algo semejante. Las palabras no le hacen justicia, pero para aquellos que no lo vieron, era como una mezcla de Rumba Cubana auténtica y una descarga Norte Americana. Fué jubiloso, espontáneo, con elementos de música folklórica Afro-Cubana, Jazz progresista, poesía, baile, y cantos con la maestría de Román Díaz al centro.
Sí. Es revolucionario, es emocionante tener ésta música Afro-Cubana ritual, unida perfectamente al concepto del Jazz progresista, interpretada por David Virelles en el piano. Durante más de un siglo grandes musicos Cubanos han entendido que el folklore y el avant-garde son parte de una espiral eterna representada por el concepto simbólico de la culebra con la cola en su boca. El Gallo Místico puede ser la continuación de aquellos movimientos modernistas Cubanos de lo años veinte y treinta. La obra de Guillén, Peláez, Cabrera, García Caturla, y Roldán, que abarca toda las artes y que se extendió hacia París y Nueva York. Amadeo Roldán, uno de los líderes de ese movimiento y uno de los más grandes compositores Cubanos en el año mil novecientos veinteinueve tuvo el debut de su Sinfonía percusiva “La Rebambaramba” aquí en Nueva York.
Y ahora que es lo que le sigue?
Esta semana vienen Los Terry. Tengo un representante superlativo de la música tradicional directamente desde Cuba. El cantante folklórico y ejecutante del shékere, el maestro Eliades “Don Pancho” Terry tocando con un grupo dónde figuran sus dos hijos, el saxofonista Yosvany Terry y el bajista Yunior Terry con uno de mis pianistas favoritos, Osmany Paredes.
Don Pancho es un vacilón. Técnicamente es un estadista mayor pero de la forma en que se mueve no te lo imaginarías. Por supuesto sus hijos Yosvany y Yunior son músicos, compositores y directores, cada cual de sus respectivos grupos. Osmany Paredes es el toque de gracia.
Tuve el privilegio de presentar a Don Pancho en el año 2010. Fue un concierto maravilloso. Uno que demostró nuevamente la continuidad de la música tradicional fluyendo con la nueva. En Junio tendremos al trompetista y compositor innovador del post bop, Jack Walrath, quien sale de la banda de Charles Mingus. La invitación de Jack simboliza el papel de Dizzy con quien Mario Bauzá colaboró. Primero al llevarlo a el grupo de Chick Webb y después trayendole al percusionista Cubano Chano Pozo. Después en julio, nos llega el trompetista Brian Lynch, quien ha sido galardonado con un Grammy. Para mí él representa a Mario Bauzá como trompetista. Lo conozco de la época en que tocaba con Héctor Lavoe durante los años ochenta. Es más conocido por su trabajo en las agrupaciones de Art Blakey y Eddie Palmieri.
A Mario Bauzá le encantaban las canciones y las cantantes. El descubrió a Ella Fitzgerald y la trajo donde Chick Webb. Como director de orquesta construía su orquesta alrededor de una voz. Primero Machito, y luego Graciela. Me preguntaba yo misma,”Como puedo presentar la dimension de su obra?” y tuve la buena fortuna de haber conocído una maravillosa joven cantante, Melvis Santa de Cuba. Le daré su debút y una residencia en este festival.
Tuve el gusto de escuchar a Melvis como invitada con El Gallo Místico. Espero con mucha anticipación poder escucharla con su banda el dia 17 de junio.
La obra de Mario Bauzá se trataba de la union del Jazz y la música Latina. El no solo fué trompetista de la orquesta de Chick Webb, también fué el director musical. Entonces para representar el cruze de las dos tengo el baterísta cubano Emilio Valdés y su proyecto con el guitarrista de Jazz Mark Whitfield.
Uno de los colaboradores preferidos de Mario era el pianista Argentino Jorge Dalto, el cual será representado aqui por su paisano, el brilliante compositor y pianista, también premiado con un Grammy, Fernando Otero.
Los metales de Mario Rivera seran representados al principio de este festival por la agrupacion AfroHORN, con Sam Newsome en el soprano, Alex Harding en el barítono. También al final de la serie con Yosvany Terry en el saxofón alto. Sus innovaciones con el Merengue Jazz serán representadas por AfroHORN y El Gallo Místico.
He invitado dos jovenes pianistas dinámicos para que participen con sus respectivas agrupaciones. George Burton como representación de el sonido de Don Kirkpatrick , el pianista de Chick Webb durante la época de Mario y también Fletcher Henderson. También desde Santiago de Cuba, el pianista David Virelles, quien representa a René Hernández, el gran pianista de los Afro Cubanos.
A Mario Rivera le encantaba la música Brasilera. Casi todos los dias solía escuchar música Brasilera. Sería eso lo que inspiró la presencia de Ulises Roche, uno de los mejores guitarristas de Jazz del Brasil quien se integra a éste festival en el mes de agosto, cuando se encontrara en ruta de Sao Paolo a Paris, y fortuitamente para en Nueva York.
Bueno, conociendote como to conozco, aún con cierta duda, pero que más da, te pregunto: tienes alguna cosa que te gustaria agregarle a esta entrevista?
Me encanta cuando los musicos me preguntan; “Puedo hacer algo nuevo?” Mi respuesta siempre es: “Estas bromeando? Claro que sí! Cuatro tubas y un cello, cualquier cosa. A la misma vez es un comentario entristecedor sobre el estado del Jazz cuando un artista necesita hacer esa pregunta. Si el artista es bueno se le debería de apoyar y se le debe dar la oportunidad de hacerlo. No es ese el proposito?
Todos los que tienen que ver con el Jazz se la pasan quejandose que no hay público para esta música, que necesitan plata, como si el Jazz fuera una plaga de algun tipo. No veo que los festivales les ofrezcan al público algún tipo de variedad, ni muestran que hayan escogido los artistas por su calidad o su mérito. Muchas veces son las mismas caras en todos lados una y otra vez. Mi forma de abordar esta situación y tomar cartas en el asunto es el antídoto a todas esas falsas agrupaciones, en muchos casos forzadas, a las que casi no se les puede considerar como colaboraciones, porque son creadas para generar publicidad. Esa mentalidad es denigrante al espíritu del Jazz.
Lo que he hecho con “New Dimensions in Latin Jazz” es abrirle la puerta a un renacimiento del Jazz que están creando músicos y compositores Latino Americanos en Nueva York; un movimiento que se ha ignorado continuamente al punto de reprimirlo. Lo que tiende a pasar con los artistas Latino Americanos es que son marginalizados por el establecimiento y se les trata con cierto desprecio. Se les da acceso a tocar en los clubes de Jazz esporádicamente, como si se les hiciera un gran favor. Despues son colonizados por los jazzistas norteamericanos para servir de respaldo, proveyendo credibilidad a sus proyectos Latinos. Al final eso les impide exponer su obra. Debe ser algo grande ser Cubano – porque todo el mundo tiene su proyecto AfroCubano, aunque casi nunca vemos a los Cubanos que viven aquí recibir reconocimiento por su propia música. Que ironía no? Es trágico para el público y para los músicos, que por cierto están más al tanto de lo que pasa en la escena jazzística que aquellos que programan los festivales y la mayoría de los clubes. Después de la primera tanda del Gallo Místico pasé por una mesa dónde habían seis personas sentadas. Se veia que eran norteamericanos, clientes de cualquier club de Jazz de altura. Comentaban sobre esa música que tanto les fascinaba, por su variedad y por lo original que era. Ellos entendieron el mensaje y Minton’s lo entiende también. Por eso yo pienso que este es el vínculo para lanzar esta nueva era del Jazz.
Tomas Peña les urge a todos apoyar a Minton’s y su maravillosa programación. Esto no lo verán en ningún otro sitio. Lo importante es que “Jazz en le Encrucijada” provee a estos artistas la oportunidad de presentarse que tanto merecen. Mucha suerte con esta serie y gracias por charlar conmigo.
Jazz en le Encrucijada: Los Pasos de Elegguá: www.mintonsharlem.com
5/13 Francisco Mora-Catlett & AfroHORN > 5/20 Román Díaz & El Gallo Místico > 5/27 Direct from Cuba: Eliades “Don Pancho” Terry > 6/03 Jack Walrath & Masters of Suspense 6/10 Fernando Otero & Radio Angel > 6/17 & 6/24 Cuban diva Melvis Santa 7/01 Francisco Mora-Catlett & AfroHORN > 7/08 Emilio Valdes Quartet with special guest Mark Whitfield > 7/15 Román Díaz & El Gallo Mistico > 7/22 Brian Lynch & Spheres of Influence > 7/29 Cuban diva Melvis Santa > 8/05 David Virelles Trio > 8/12 George Burton Quintet > 8/19 Direct from Sao Paolo: Ulisses Rocha > 8/26 Yosvany Terry Quintet
Introduction: The Rhythmic Map of José Guzmán
For guitarist and composer José Guzmán, the distance between the academic rigours of a Doctoral degree and the street-level pulse of a Puerto Rican bomba circle is non-existent. Born and raised in Ponce, Guzmán has spent his career translating the “hard 90-degree pivot” from rock-and-roll to jazz into a sophisticated, percussion-driven language. His latest project with The Afro-Caribbean Jazz Collective, Cortadito, serves as a vibrant proof of concept for his “drum-first” philosophy—an approach that demands the composer master the hand drums before ever picking up the pen.
In Cortadito, Guzmán departs from the traditional jazz quintet by daringly removing the drumset entirely. By centring the barril and congas, he creates a sonic space that smells of the Caribbean sea and feels like the cobblestones of Old San Juan. It is an intimate, unfiltered snapshot of heritage that balances the intensity of son montuno and songo with the tender, lived-in emotions of the bolero.
In this candid conversation, Guzmán opens up about the “flying without a net” energy of the Collective, his responsibility to the legacy of masters like Rafael Cortijo and William Cepeda and why he believes that to truly play Latin Jazz, you must first learn to speak through the skin of the drum.
“The title Cortadito is a snapshot of my heritage and upbringing… I was flooded with memories of the mountain view from my home in Ponce, the cobblestones in Old San Juan…”
On Cortadito (2025 JGB Music)
Cortadito has clearly resonated with critics and audiences alike—what was the central artistic vision behind this album, and how does it build on or depart from Fiesta at Caroga?
Fiesta at Caroga was a great way to find my artistic voice, while Cortadito has refined my vision. After Fiesta at Caroga, I felt that I needed to connect the audience with my Puerto Rican roots. I composed tunes that put the Puerto Rican folkloric rhythms of bomba front and center (“Holande Pa Uste” and “Witches Dance”) while expanding on our repertoire with son montunos, cha cha, boleros, and songo.
The title Cortadito evokes something intimate yet culturally specific. What does the title represent for you musically and personally?
It’s a snapshot of my heritage and upbringing. As I wrote the music for the album, I was flooded with memories of the mountain view from my home in Ponce, the cobblestones in Old San Juan, and the smell of the Caribbean sea. The imagery of the empty coffee mug in the album cover, the intensity of the music, and the gentleness of boleros are staples on the island.
Can you walk us through your compositional process for this album? Did the pieces emerge from rhythmic concepts, harmonic ideas, or lived experiences?
A mixture of all of the above. I purchased several percussion instruments (congas, Puerto Rican barril, etc) and dove headfirst into learning the lineage of the drum and playing all the patterns that I write music for. If I can’t play it, I won’t write it. It was common to hear teachers at the Puerto Rico Conservatory say, “to play Latin jazz, you gotta play the hand drums,” and that is common to hear in interviews of the masters as well. Some ideas came to me as I practiced my basic patterns and became useful with the help of practice tools such as Agustin Espina’s Latin Percussion Grooves or the mobile app PercussionTutor.
As for the lived experiences portion, it’s very personal storytelling. The idea for Roberto Cantoral’s “El Reloj” came to me as I took care of my father before he passed away, and I always dedicate the song to my audience because we all share that feeling of losing a loved one. Others, such as “A Sunny Kind of Day” and “Orchard Downs,” are based on my day-to-day life experiences in Puerto Rico and the state of Illinois.
How did you approach balancing Afro-Caribbean rhythmic traditions with modern jazz language on this recording?
While I was writing, I felt a strong responsibility to write melodies that swing with the clave, the drum patterns, and, at times, the dancer. The harmonic canvas tends to reveal itself afterwards. My writing process varies; at times I’ll have a melody come to mind, record a voice memo (or more), and then I’ll find the rhythm that fits. Other times, I’ll play the drums and let the pattern lead me to a new melody.
Were there particular tracks on Cortadito that presented unique challenges or breakthroughs during recording?
Recording is always tedious because, unlike playing live music and the “flying without a net” feeling that comes with it, you can easily get stuck in your head, striving to create a good product. I am lucky enough to say that I surrounded myself with very positive friends who were also enthusiastic in the process. “El Volcán” and “Holandé Pa Usté” were challenging but fun to record.
“I am building on the foundation laid out by Rafael Cortijo’s Time Machine and William Cepeda… pushing the boundaries of what was Latin jazz at the moment of publication.”
On Musical Identity & Heritage
Your music reflects a deep connection to Puerto Rican rhythms. How do you translate traditional forms into a contemporary jazz context without losing their essence?
As a fan of salsa music and traditional folklore, I wanted to keep the dance aspect of the Afro-Caribbean rhythmic traditions and adorn it with melodies that percolate from the hand drums. Even the decision of not having a drumset in the recording was made in an effort for the percussion section to shine and pop out. In live shows, I’ll have drummers set up a timbale/drumset similar to what Samuel Formell (Los Van Van drummer and leader) uses, but I still prefer the timbales with a kick drum for the studio.
During the barril solo on “Witches Dance”, I actually had someone come into the studio and dance a traditional bomba improvisation for the drummer to play to. Having that solo kept the spirit of the dancer, which was really important for me.
Growing up in Ponce, Puerto Rico, what early musical influences shaped your identity as a guitarist and composer?
My influences are a wide spectrum of genres. I grew up listening to Fania Records, Puerto Rican folklore artists, and the boleros of El Trio Los Panchos, but in my teenage years, I learned guitar by playing classic rock and mid 90’s trending rock bands. By then, I found myself playing in several rock bands with my neighbors, writing music and playing shows. It wasn’t until I was 18 years old when I discovered Al Di Meola, Paco de Lucia, and John McLaughlin’s Saturday Night in San Francisco that I pivoted to jazz, and that pivot was a hard 90 degrees into the genre.
How do you see your work contributing to the broader narrative of Afro-Caribbean jazz today?
I am building on the foundation laid out by Rafael Cortijo’s Time Machine (1973) and William Cepeda’s Puerto Rican jazz discography (1992 onwards), to name a few. Both artists focused on bringing the rhythms of bomba and plena into the jazz realm, pushing the boundaries of what was Latin jazz at the moment of publication.
“The beautiful (and intimidating) part about the Collective is the rotating cast of musicians… in 2025 alone, we collaborated with over 40 musicians across 8 states.”
On Bandleading & The Afro-Caribbean Jazz Collective
As the leader of The Afro-Caribbean Jazz Collective, what qualities do you prioritize when assembling and directing your ensemble?
If we think of it as a pyramid, sight reading is at the top, followed by improvisational skills (especially over clave), and well-rounded musicianship. This is because we don’t get a chance to rehearse as much as I’d like to, so it’s crucial to get the melody and form with as little or no rehearsal time. Currently, I have a core group that travels with me, and I’ll pick up musicians who live in the area we are visiting. I gravitate towards players who play or have played in salsa bands, and the results are always fun!
Your group has developed a strong identity over several albums—how has the band evolved since its inception?
The beautiful (and intimidating) part about the Collective is the rotating cast of musicians who are well-versed in Latin jazz while also exposing strong musicians to playing clave music. This serves as a place for players to grow, as well as my own growth by receiving feedback from Victor Garcia, Roy McGrath, Tito Carillo, Zach Rich, and Matt Shevitz. This is also due to the size of the group and the hectic schedule of musicians with families and other priorities. In 2025 alone, the Collective collaborated with over 40 musicians while playing across 8 states.
What does collaboration look like within the Collective? Do your band members contribute to arrangements or compositional ideas?
It’s always evolving. When I started the ensemble, I would have people bring in arrangements. The last track in Cortadito (“El Volcán”) was written and arranged by tenor sax player Brian Stark. Brian is a strong composer and arranger for a big band, and I fell in love with the tune. Trombonist Ben Carrasquillo is the arranger of our EP version of Nat King Cole’s “Love for Sale”. Several musicians have asked me about writing for the ensemble, and I always welcome it, but I won’t pressure folks to write. Ever since the release of Fiesta at Caroga, I usually consult ideas with members, bring the arrangements to a show, and members will contribute with ideas to enhance the melodic weight or sections.
On Education & Artistic Development
You’ve pursued extensive academic training—from the Puerto Rico Conservatory to a DMA in Jazz Guitar Performance. How has your formal education shaped your artistic voice?
It was very important in my development since my early years as a guitarist were a combination of playing my favorite songs at home and jamming songs with my neighbor, no music theory or formal lessons. The Conservatory is where I developed the foundation for playing jazz and my first exposure to listening to classical music (chamber and orchestral) on a daily basis. Southern Illinois University in Carbondale exposed me to writing atonal music, taught me to analyze it, and provided me with my first opportunity to write for a big band every couple of months. At the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, I got to write a lot of songs and arrangements for a robust instrumentation guided by a faculty whose legacy is found in albums by Arturo Sandoval, Woody Herman, and many more. The latter also taught me the value of research in academic settings, and I am interested in adding the Afro-Puerto Rican voice to that conversation as well.
As someone deeply rooted in both performance and composition, how do you balance intellectual rigour with emotional expression in your music?
Writing music is similar to writing stories; there’s a narrative that makes an audience feel. For me, there has to be a connection between ideas and not just juxtaposing melodic ideas to create sections. If I can sing the melody while playing clave or drums, then I move forward. My favorite tool when composing is the eraser, especially when overcomplicating melodic statements or when I get a bad case of writer’s block.
On Career & Looking Ahead
You’ve worked across genres—from jazz to chamber music to rock—and collaborated with diverse artists. How have these experiences influenced your approach as a bandleader?
It exposes me to different approaches of ensemble performing, ways of conducting an ensemble, addressing the audience, learning about the music industry from peers, and exchanging arranging techniques that would’ve been “learned” from a book. These projects also influenced my thought process when composing, creating a setlist, and deciding what to do (or not) in the bandstand, and it allows me to get comfortable being on stage.
Looking ahead, what new directions or projects are you most excited to explore with The Afro-Caribbean Jazz Collective?
The success of Cortadito has given me the confidence to continue to write a lot of music. I’m excited to go back into the studio in the summer to record new music that is exclusively focused on bomba rhythms alongside Chicago-based bomba ensemble Colectivo Sayba. I’m also writing new tunes for a separate recording session in a similar vibe to Cortadito.
Brazilian pianist, composer and producer Ricardo Bacelar opens up about Maracanós, his ambitious new collaboration with legendary percussionist Airto Moreira and special guest Flora Purim.
In this exclusive interview, Bacelar reflects on how the album emerged organically during the filming of a documentary at Jasmin Music’s studio in Fortaleza (the capital of Ceará, a state located in northeastern Brazil), where creativity flowed through improvisation, friendship and artistic trust. He discusses building what he calls “a film without images,” blending Brazilian rhythms, orchestral textures, electronics and spontaneous musical interaction.
Bacelar also speaks about Airto’s enduring legacy, Flora’s spiritual vocal presence, the symbolism behind the album title, and why protecting artistic freedom in an algorithm-driven music industry remains essential.
“Art needs risk, surprise, contradiction, silence and emotional density,” Bacelar says.
Read our full conversation on Maracanós, one of the most adventurous Brazilian jazz releases of the year.
“Airto approaches music with the spirit of a child discovering sound for the first time.”
Maracanós brings you together with the legendary Airto Moreira, one of the most influential Brazilian musicians in jazz history. How did this collaboration first come about, and what made this the right moment for you both to create an album together?
This collaboration emerged very naturally through our friendship and through the documentary project we were developing around Airto and Flora at Jasmin Studio. During the filming sessions, we spent many hours together inside the studio environment, talking about music, listening to sounds, and experimenting with rhythms and textures. At a certain point, the creative process itself became stronger than the original plan. We realized there was an album being born there organically.
I believe the timing was special because we were all completely open artistically. Airto carries an extraordinary musical freedom, and I was interested in creating a sonic universe where Brazilian music, improvisation, cinematic atmospheres, and contemporary production could coexist without limitations. Maracanós became the result of that encounter.
You’ve described the project as being born organically during the filming of the documentary. Can you take us back to those sessions at Jasmin Studio in Fortaleza and describe the atmosphere that led to the creation of Maracanós?
The atmosphere was extremely creative and immersive. Airto and Flora stayed with us in Fortaleza for an extended period, and the studio became almost like a living organism. Music happened all day long. Sometimes ideas would emerge during rehearsals, sometimes during conversations, and many times while the cameras were rolling.
Jasmin Studio is inside my home, so there is a very human and intimate dimension to the recordings. We were surrounded by Brazilian light, food, conversations, nature, silence, and deep musical exchange. That emotional proximity created trust, and trust creates freedom. I think you can hear that spirit throughout the album.
The album appears to embrace freedom, spontaneity and experimentation, qualities that have defined Airto’s career for decades. How did you balance structured composition with improvisational freedom during the recording process?
For me, composition and improvisation are not opposites. They complement each other. Some pieces began with harmonic structures or rhythmic ideas I brought to the sessions, but once the musicians entered the emotional space of the music, we allowed the compositions to breathe.
Airto has an incredible instinct. He transforms rhythm into narrative. So I tried to create an environment where spontaneity could happen without losing the identity of the pieces. We recorded many moments in a very open way, preserving imperfections, interactions and
emotional reactions. That human unpredictability became part of the language of the album.
Your production approach combines acoustic instruments, synthesizers, percussion and strings in a very cinematic way. What was your sonic vision for Maracanós, and how did you build that immersive soundscape?
I wanted the album to feel almost like a film without images. A sonic landscape where Brazilian rhythms could coexist with orchestral textures, electronic atmospheres, improvisation and silence.
The production was built very carefully inside Jasmin Studio, which is designed for immersive audio and deep acoustic detail. We used analog and digital elements together, combining percussion layers, piano, synthesizers, strings and spatial textures, almost like painting with sound.
I’m very interested in emotional depth and timbre. Sometimes a texture can say more than a melody. The immersive aspect of the production became fundamental in creating this sensation of movement, memory and atmosphere.
“Flora transforms emotion into sound very naturally… Airto approaches music with the spirit of a child discovering sound for the first time… They have an almost telepathic connection.”
Flora Purim makes a special appearance on “Voo da Tarde.” What did she bring to that track creatively, and what was it like having both Flora and Airto together in the studio?
Flora brings something very unique. She transforms emotion into sound very naturally. Her voice carries spirituality, freedom and an unmistakable musical identity. On “Voo da Tarde,” she added a dreamlike dimension that elevated the piece emotionally.
Having Flora and Airto together in the studio was deeply inspiring. They have lived and created music together for more than six decades, and there is an almost telepathic connection between them. Sometimes they communicated musically with just a glance. Witnessing that inside the studio was very moving.
Airto is receiving the prestigious National Endowment for the Arts honour this year. Did working so closely with him give you new insights into why his influence on jazz and Brazilian music remains so profound?
Absolutely. What impressed me most was not only his musical genius but his permanent curiosity. Airto approaches music with the spirit of a child discovering sound for the first time. He is always searching, always experimenting.
His influence goes far beyond percussion. He expanded the vocabulary of rhythm inside jazz and brought Brazilian musical identity into a truly global conversation without losing authenticity. Working closely with him made me understand even more deeply how innovation and freedom are connected in his artistic philosophy.
The title Maracanós is intriguing. What is the story behind the album’s title, and what does it symbolize artistically or culturally?
The title was created by Airto Moreira himself, and I love the poetic and symbolic dimension it carries. Maracanós combines the words “maraca”, “Maracanã”, and the pronoun “nós”, which means “we” in Portuguese. The title, therefore, brings together rhythm, Brazilian identity, collectivity and movement at the same time.
There is something deeply Brazilian in the sound of the word, but also something open and universal. It evokes percussion, nature, birds, popular energy, community and encounter. I think this perfectly reflects the spirit of the album, a musical encounter built collectively through friendship, freedom, improvisation and cultural exchange.
“Maracanós represents friendship, freedom, improvisation and cultural exchange.”
The Kalimera String Quartet appears on two tracks with arrangements by Liduíno Pitombeira. Why was it important to incorporate strings into this project, and how did they expand the album’s musical vocabulary?
The strings introduced another emotional layer to the album. I wanted certain moments to have greater harmonic depth and cinematic expansion, almost like opening a new emotional horizon inside the music.
Liduíno Pitombeira created arrangements with enormous sensitivity. He understands both classical language and Brazilian musical phrasing, which allowed the quartet to interact organically with percussion, improvisation and the rhythmic complexity of the album.
Your label, Jasmin Music, has become an important platform for Brazilian artists across multiple generations. How does Maracanós reflect your broader vision as a producer and label founder?
Maracanós reflects very clearly what I believe Jasmin Music represents: artistic freedom, sonic excellence, cultural identity and creative risk.
I’m interested in building projects that preserve musical depth and emotional truth. We live in a time where music is often reduced to speed and algorithms. Jasmin was created to protect artistic identity and long-form musical experiences. This album embodies that philosophy completely.
Airto mentioned using his voice throughout the sessions in spontaneous ways when he wasn’t playing percussion. Were there moments during the recording process that surprised you creatively?
Many moments surprised me. Airto uses his voice almost as an extension of rhythm and emotion. Sometimes he would suddenly begin vocalizing textures or rhythmic ideas while listening to playback, and those moments became part of the atmosphere of the recordings.
There was a constant sense of discovery in the studio. Some of the most beautiful moments happened unexpectedly.
The album moves away from commercial formulas and embraces artistic risk. In today’s music industry, where algorithms often shape listening habits, how important is it for you to protect creative freedom?
For me, creative freedom is essential. Music cannot exist only to satisfy algorithms or consumption patterns. Art needs risk, surprise, contradiction, silence and emotional density.
I believe audiences still deeply desire authenticity. Perhaps the industry sometimes underestimates listeners. My commitment is to create music that has identity and emotional permanence, even if it follows a more difficult commercial path.
“Music still has the power to create emotional bridges between cultures, generations and human experiences.”
The upcoming documentary directed by Jom Tob Azulay adds another dimension to this project. What can audiences expect from the film that they may not hear on the album itself?
The film reveals the human and emotional dimension behind the music. Audiences will witness the creative process in real time: conversations, rehearsals, improvisations, memories, tensions, humor, affection and the intimacy of artistic creation.
It is not only a documentary about music. It is also about friendship, artistic legacy, exile, Brazil, spirituality and the passage of time.
You’ve collaborated with artists such as Gilberto Gil, Roberto Menescal, Toninho Horta and many others. Where does Maracanós fit within your artistic evolution?
I see Maracanós as one of the most mature and free projects of my career. It synthesizes many things I’ve explored throughout the years: Brazilian harmony, cinematic language, sophisticated production, improvisation and emotional storytelling.
At the same time, it opened new creative doors. Working closely with Airto and Flora expanded my perception of spontaneity and musical freedom.
The album cover artwork by Fernando França reflects a symbolic connection between Brazil and Africa. How important was visual storytelling in shaping the identity of this release?
Visual identity is extremely important to me. I see albums as complete artistic objects, not only collections of songs.
Fernando França created images that connect mythology, ancestry, Brazil, Africa and spirituality in a very powerful way. The artwork reflects the same emotional and symbolic layers that exist in the music itself.
Finally, what do you hope listeners around the world take away from Maracanós, especially those discovering your music, or perhaps even Airto and Flora’s legacy, for the first time?
I hope listeners feel an emotional connection and freedom. I hope the album invites people into a deeper listening experience, where music becomes atmosphere, memory and emotion.
For younger audiences discovering Airto and Flora, I hope Maracanós reveals the timelessness of their artistic vision. For those discovering my work through this project, I hope they perceive the commitment to authenticity, sonic beauty and Brazilian musical identity.
I believe music still has the power to create emotional bridges between cultures, generations and human experiences. That is ultimately what Maracanós represents for me.
Amsterdam-based Cuban-born vocalist Estrella Acosta continues to expand her artistic horizons with Caminos – A Latin American Landscape, a vibrant and far-reaching recording with her ensemble Esquina 25. A Latin Grammy nominee, Acosta has long been celebrated for her deep connection to Cuban and Brazilian traditions. With Caminos, she goes further—tracing a musical map that spans the breadth of Latin America.
From Mexico to Argentina, and from Afro-Caribbean grooves to Brazilian lyricism, the album embraces what Acosta describes as “music without borders,” brought to life through a collective of international musicians based in the Netherlands.
With Caminos, Estrella Acosta and her band Esquina 25 offer more than a collection of songs—they present a living, breathing dialogue across cultures, traditions, and musical languages. It is a project that doesn’t simply travel across Latin America—it connects it.
In Caminos, Estrella Acosta paints a musical landscape of Latin American traditions. She takes you on the road to experience songs from her motherland as well as Mexico, Venezuela, Brazil, Peru and Uruguay, all the way to Argentina. You will hear in this album formats ranging from intimate duos to bigger sounds with her band Esquina 25 and special guests, bringing the listener a variety of rhythms and creative arrangements. Music to listen to and dance to!
In this conversation, Acosta reflects on artistic identity, collaboration, and the evolving language of Latin jazz.
Caminos – A Latin American Landscape
Now available on HearNow
“Caminos – A Latin American Landscape is about movement—not just geographically, but emotionally and culturally.”
Caminos feels deeply personal. Was there a specific moment or realization that set this project in motion for you?
Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to discover and sing many songs from Latin America while living in the USA, Europe and also during my travels through Central and South America. Being a voting member of the Latin Recording Academy, every year during voting season, I have the chance to listen to a great variety of music by its members. This has expanded my horizons and revived my interest in exploring the folklore and music from this part of the American continent.
As a musician and anthropologist, I always like to go back to the past, dig into the roots and check out the music of people around the planet. In the past, I explored the music of Cuba and Brazil, and now I want to get closer to other countries of the Americas. Luckily, I could form a band, Esquina 25, consisting of excellent international musicians who understand its character and spirit – they speak the language of these various traditions.
For this album, the first song that caught my attention was ‘Que Nadie Sepa mi Sufrir’, also known as ‘Amor de mis Amores’, which was written in 1927 as a Peruvian waltz by an Argentinian composer, Angel Cabral, with lyrics by Enrique Dizeo. The song was first popularized by Argentinians Hugo del Carril and Alberto Castillo, and then recorded by many more singers. In 1957, with French lyrics by Michel Rivgauche, Edith Piaf made it a big hit in Europe. Of course, what fascinated me about this song was its beautiful melody and lyrics, and the challenge was to make this song, which had been recorded by so many artists, our own. I asked one of my favorite arrangers, Venezuelan trumpetist Michael Simon, to create something different. He wanted some spoken words in it, so this allowed me to feature my mom reciting a few lines of poetry. This song got my project in motion.
Living in Amsterdam as a Cuban artist, do you ever feel a sense of distance from your roots—or has that distance actually deepened your connection to them?
The distance from my motherland has deepened my connection to my roots. I left Cuba when I was 11 years old. Thanks to my parents, I was able to retain my identity and culture while growing up in Texas. They always played Cuban music at home, and my dad taught me how to dance. They still have a great collection of LP’s by Celia Cruz, Beny Moré, Trio Matamoros, Bola de Nieve, Fajardo y sus Estrellas, etc. My mother took care of passing on the poetry of Cuba and Latin America by reciting the many poems she had memorized since her youth. Later in life, I studied poetry and literature at the University of Mexico City and then graduated from the University of Texas at Austin, where, of all things, I started singing Brazilian music.
Coming to live in the Netherlands opened new doors to the music of Cuba. It was here that I first had a chance to listen to many Cuban bands performing live, such as Cachao, Los Papines, Sierra Maestra, NG La Banda, Los Van Van, Chucho Valdés and Irakere, and later Afro-Cuban All Stars, Buena Vista Social Club, and many more artists.
So it was also in the Netherlands that I returned to Cuban music, thanks to a group of Cuban musicians I met there around the year 2000. We formed a band playing Cuban country music, which toured and recorded the album Alma Guajira. So yes, living in Amsterdam brought me closer to my musical roots.
This album travels across so many countries and traditions. Were there any musical cultures in this project that challenged you or pushed you outside your comfort zone?
Yes, I had the adventurous idea to sing a Venezuelan merengue, ‘De Tanto Quererte’, also known as ‘Merenson’. This song is in a fast 5/8 rhythm, a groove very different from what I was used to. I did songs in 5/4 and 7/4 before, but this one was of a different nature. It is part of the folklore that comes easily to those who grow up with it… I had listened to Venezuelans singing this style, and they make it sound so easy – for me, it was a challenge. Double bassist Samuel Ruiz from Venezuela helped me figure it out and saved me on this one; it was great to have an expert on board. Luckily, ‘Merenson’ also goes back and forth between merengue and son, so I could always step into familiar grounds. At the end of the arrangement, we added a coro-pregon section that gave it a Cuban touch.
With Esquina 25, there’s a real sense of chemistry and trust. How did you build that musical family?
Esquina 25 came together in 2004 as part of a project fusing Cuban music with Latin jazz. Marc Bischoff and I started the band, with me as bandleader and him as musical director. We have had various members join throughout the years. The current line-up has been steady since 2013. Everyone in the group enjoys the music we are creating and has a lot of freedom to express themselves. It is this sense of freedom and trust that keeps us together – there is mutual love and respect.
“We’re not trying to recreate traditions—we’re in dialogue with them.”
Your collaboration with Marc Bischoff seems central to the album. What kinds of conversations—musical or otherwise—shaped your work together?
Marc and I talk about what music interests us, and also about what musical subjects we can bring to our audience. The album Mujeres de Luna, with songs by Cuban female composers performed by the band and a string quartet, was a very exciting idea for me as a singer and also for Marc, who was looking forward to arranging for strings. He later said that I was the only Cuban doing country music in this part of the world, so I should focus on that genre. This led to the album Tierra, with songs composed by Cuban country singers and some of my own compositions. For the new album, Caminos, he did the arrangement of my song ‘Nevando en Camagüey’. He also recorded most of the album at his studio and mixed it. It is a great privilege for me to work with him.
‘Nevando en Camagüey’ is such an evocative title. What does that image mean to you emotionally?
‘It’s snowing in Camagüey’ is indeed quite a title since we know that it never does…
I visited the wonderful city of Camagüey on my first trip back to Cuba. My lyrics are inspired by the memory of this trip, conversations with family and friends, and stories based on the history and folklore of this beautiful region. Famous are the ‘tinajones’, huge earthenware jars, which the inhabitants have used for hundreds of years to collect rainwater. The legend says that those who drink the water from the tinajones will fall in love with someone from Camagüey and never leave the city again.
But I was also inspired by my aunt Mirita in Havana, who would always use “Está nevando en Camagüey” as a code when she dared to share by telephone any news about our family members living in the USA.
When you interpret songs by composers like Marta Valdés or Armando Manzanero, what do you look for first—the story, the harmony, or something more intangible?
I look for the intangible – how the song hits my guts, my soul, my imagination. I also look at how the music and lyrics transcend musical genres. For example, Marta Valdés was a fan of jazz music, and you can hear it in her bolero on the album, ‘No Hagas Caso’, and in many of her compositions.
There’s a beautiful balance in your music between structure and freedom. Do you ever feel tension between those two forces?
I feel that structure and freedom complement each other. One cannot be musically free without some structure and cannot work with structure without venturing into free spaces. Our Dutch/American saxophonist, Efraïm Trujillo, plays on most of the album’s tracks and is a very sensitive soloist who knows how to balance structure and freedom in his improvisations.
The guest artists bring very distinct voices to the album. Were there moments in the studio that surprised you or changed the direction of a piece?
Recording the duo pieces with the great guitarist from Austin, David Pulkingham, was a nice surprise. We had never played together before. I gave him two songs, ‘Voy Apagar la Luz’ by Armando Manzanero and ‘Milonga Paraguaya’ by Jorge Drexler from Uruguay. We came together a few days later and recorded in an intimate setting, at close distance, and it turned out to be a very organic experience and gave the music a special feel.
The making of the Uruguayan candombe, ‘Ahí va la Comparsa’, was also a very spontaneous experience: A Cuban, a Brazilian, a German and a Venezuelan were all guided here by our Uruguayan drummer/percussionist Enrique Firpi – an essential core member of the band. It was a thrill to sing together with my close friend from Uruguay, Beatriz Aguiar. Recording these songs that had just come out of the arranger’s pot gave a fresh twist to the music.
The contributions of our guest artists on various tunes all gave the album extra spice. We were fortunate to have Elizabeth Fadel on accordion and Paulinho Paes on guitar, both from Brazil, as well as Jorge Glem (cuatro), Gerardo Rosales (percussion) and Michael Simon (trumpet) from Venezuela participating in this project. They were all essential in painting our Latin American landscape.
“Music without borders is not a concept—it’s a lived experience.”
You describe this as “music without borders.” Has your own idea of identity—musical or personal—changed while making this album?
Both my musical and personal identity have changed, so I see myself more as a world citizen. However, they say you can get the girl out of the country, but you can never get the country out of the girl.
Yes, I feel like discovering more music from the Americas, but I also would like to focus on boleros, a style that I have always loved. And talking about a genre of music that transcends borders, boleros have been created not only by Cuban, Puerto Rican and Mexican composers, but also by people from many other nations, including Brazil, which has contributed boleros with the beautiful sound of its Portuguese language.
What did this project teach you about yourself as an artist?
This project taught me many lessons, but most of all, never to give up learning new things and exploring my musical potential.
When you listen back to Caminos now, do you hear it as a destination—or as the beginning of something new?
Listening to Caminos now, I feel that I am standing at the beginning of a new road, a new path; it is the start of something new.
Thank you, Estrella, for sharing your thoughts with our readers.
Thank you for the opportunity.
TRACKLIST
1. De Tanto Quererte (featuring Jorge Glem & Gerardo Rosales) [Merenson]
2. Dunas (featuring Paulinho Paes & Marc Bischoff)
3. Nevando en Camagüey (featuring Efraïm Trujillo & Gerardo Rosales)
4. No Hagas Caso (featuring Marc Bischoff, Samuel Ruiz & Efraïm Trujillo)
5. Que Nadie Sepa Mi Sufrir (featuring Elizabeth Fadel & Efraïm Trujillo)
6. Voy a Apagar la Luz (featuring David Pulkingham)
7. Ahi Va la Comparsa (featuring Beatriz Aguiar & Enrique Firpi)
8. Milonga Paraguaya (featuring David Pulkingham)
-
25 Most Read Posts13 years agoJuan García-Herreros “Snow Owl” – Normas
-
25 Most Read Posts14 years agoEdy Martínez, the Music Architect Behind the Piano
-
25 Most Read Posts16 years agoRaphael Cruz Reaffirms His Commitment To Latin Jazz!
-
25 Most Read Posts11 years agoRubén Blades con Roberto Delgado & Orquesta: Son de Panamá