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Arvito: The Harvey Averne Story – The Interview – Part III
THE INTERVIEW – Part III – August, 2008 – April, 2009:
Conversations Between CHICO ALVAREZ PERAZA and HARVEY AVERNE
CAP: I have noticed that today’s latin jazz is so much more diverse than it was back then. Of course, we could say that the musicians in New York picked up where the Cubans had left off, but that would be speculating. It’s my contention that the Cubans were not alone in their endeavor, and that various ethnic groups were also responsible for the development of this hybrid music. For example, I have recently been enlightened as to just how much American Jews have contributed to the dissemination of what we latinos stubbornly refer to as “our music”. Virtually no credit is given to them (nor to Afro-Americans for that matter). The borscht belt is but one piece of the puzzle, I suppose. And no one has yet to examine the South American influences. Still, the genesis of it all can be found in the Havana-New Orleans connection. Having said that – and with a bit of indignation – I can’t help but wonder what brilliant elitist-wanna-be-genius-authority-on-latin-music mind has now come up with the idea that “El Barrio” is the birthplace of “latin jazz”. This kind of irresponsible writing only serves to create more confusion and propagate certain myths, not to mention that it totally misinforms the very gullible younger generation. I am quite sure that “regionalism” will once again rear its ugly head on this matter.
HA: Chico, this is deep. Let me just say that without Cuban music and American jazz we would not have anything resembling latin jazz, but I have to say that Harlem did play a major role in its development. For me, that’s where it all came together. Up until this day if you walk down the streets of El Barrio on a nice day and listen to the music coming from the cars, apartments and shops you will notice that it is not the sounds of latin jazz that you hear (for the most part anyway). Do the same walk in Harlem and you will find that the Afro-Cuban Jazz influence there is much stronger.
CAP: Harvey, when it comes to Afro-Cuban Jazz, we both know that it’s not just about the Cubans, but the revisionists are nonetheless working overtime to “set the record straight” as they say. They want to prove that everything comes out of New York, and that Spanish Harlem is the epicenter of everything “latino”. What these self-proclaimed musicologists fail to see is that this music had already gone through its own cultural metamorphosis – long before they even heard of it. Fernando Ortiz coined the phrase “transculturation” and he traced the seeds of that process to places like New Orleans, Havana, Veracruz, Cartagena, Caracas, Paris etc. Perez Prado may have produced his jazzed-up version of the “mambo” while in Mexico and the Harlemites may have given the music a new name – “Cubop” – but by that time it was thoroughly documented (through films and recordings) as Cuba’s “popular” music. The earliest forms have been preserved for posterity, available as we speak on youtube.com and illustrated in academically well-edited books. And I’m not talking about your local Mickey Mouse cub reporter types either, I’m referring to all those eyewitnesses who “lived” the experience and who are a lot more knowledgeable than the sabelotodos who are just beginning to get their feet wet. There are a few writers who are really trying to get it right, no doubt. But they only scratch the surface. Back in the day – I’m talking pre-Fania here – we had some real scholars. They did their homework, putting in long hours of research, meeting with and interviewing the progenitors. So you see, there is indeed a consensus of opinion among educators that we had visionaries in both countries (USA and Cuba) who had been merging these two musical worlds since the early part of the twentieth century. The problem is that the main focus has (always) been on the Chano Pozo/Dizzy Gillespie/Mario Bauza/Machito collaborations. Sadly, after the 1962 trade embargo the cultural interplay between the two countries was no longer available. The late Louie Ramirez and I spoke at length about this. As you know, his uncle was the great pianist Joe Loco. I don’t know, is it just me, or did you also notice that after they shut down Cuba, latin jazz began to diminish in popularity.
HA: You are correct Chico. And I do see where you’re coming from. Your dislike for the “authoritarian” know-it-all types is only equal to my utter disdain for “traditionalists” (not to be confused with “tradition”, which I deeply respect). After the embargo, latin jazz was sort of relegated to maybe a handful of artists who really pushed it to the max. It was hip music, and mostly stayed within the realm of dance rhythms, so it’s appeal was far more universal than straight ahead traditional and very improvisational jazz. And it wasn’t ethnically restricted, I would say it was actually inclusive. On the other hand, straight ahead jazz got way too elitist. Jazz fans, for the most part are really an elitist and closed minded bunch. Yeah, they love the music, but rather than nurture it, they stiffle it. They have evolved into the sabelotodo/anti-change/anti-growth/anti/experimentation “traditionalist” group (if I stated this before, screw it, let them hear it again, it deserves repeating, because repetition is their mantra and their way of life any damned way).
CAP: Pretty strong words, Harvey. Looks like it’s you who are starting to go deep now.
HA: I know, but it’s true. Look, any time that a jazz artist deviated from traditional jazz and experimented, as was the case in Miles Davis’ “Bitches Brew” album for example, they were brutally attacked by the whole entire “traditionalist” jazz establishment, including their so-called “jazz fans”. Some are in a way like the elitist Upper West Side New York Times loving type book crowd (only certain books and writing styles are acceptable, everything else is looked down and frowned upon). The “Holier Than Thou”, high and mighty intellectual set. The bullshit is even worse in the art field, those poor bastards had to starve, cut off their ears, die and be buried in the ground -for God knows how long- before their art became fashionable, sold in the auction houses and galleries and later displayed in the museums of the world. The upper echelon snobbish assholes who made the artist’s lives a living hell wound up earning multi-millions of dollars buying, selling, and (finally) appreciating the artist’s work. In turn, the real artists leave our world penniless, feeling insecure and insignificant. They die wondering if their life’s work was valid or had some meaning, or whether it was of less than minor importance. I’m sure Vincent Van Gogh (wherever he is) must be grateful for the adoration and love bestowed on him now, even if it is just a little late, don’t you think? At least he had the interest, love, encouragement and support from his brother Theo. Some never even get that.
CAP: Well Mr. Averne, you are as they say “pulling no punches” today.
HA: Chico, I’m going for the TKO on this one. Allow me to personally thank the “traditionalist establishment” of the various art forms on behalf of all the dead composers, artists, musicians, playwrights, authors, etc. who lived miserable sub-standard lives waiting for that much delayed societal approval. The way that our new talent is treated, encouraged and nurtured is inane and completely unforgivable as far as I’m concerned. History proves that from the beginning of time our society has had an innate fear of any new or different ideas in regards to science, philosophy, religion, basic freedoms etc. Remember Columbus and the world is flat scenario? And Freud’s theories of the human subconscious and the sexual instincts of man? Old Sigmund really shook up western civilization, and for this he paid dearly. And, if my memory serves me correctly Galileo lived out his final years under house arrest for the invention of the telescope. How fucked up is that Chico?
CAP: It’s as bad as it gets, I guess.
HA: Having said that, allow me to once again cite the Miles Davis “Bitches Brew” album as the perfect example. My brother is a worshipper of all things traditional. Period. He is an “only traditional jazz will do” type jazz lover and a former saxophonist. As a “traditionalist” he still hasn’t forgiven Miles for going electric on that album. All Miles did was plug some electric cords into a socket and experiment with some new sounds that he was hearing in that genius brain of his. Mind you, it was all about the instruments, albeit electric, played by great musicians requiring no less expertise or talent than on the acoustic instruments. God forbid we should allow that fact into the equation. Simply put, no new instruments or sounds would be permitted. The innovators were put on notice.
CAP: The “audacity of change” – to borrow a line from president Obama.
HA: Yes, and for that Sir Miles Davis was vilified and crucified. That’s right, I’m talking about Mr. Miles Davis, the ultimate non-comformist. “How dare he betray us”! Was he also expected to die frustrated, driven mad by conformity? I highly recomend reading a short piece by Maya Angelou entitled “Haters”.
CAP: I happen to think that “Bitches Brew” is a perfect example of what you’re talking about Harvey, although every one of Miles’ albums was a “first”.
HA: Of course they were. But to the best of my knowledge that was Miles’ biggest album ever. Even more importantly, “Bitches Brew” brought so many new fans to jazz music, which it desperately needed then, needs now and will always need. It was that same “traditionalist” elitist mentality that loved the Buena Vista Social Club to the exclusion of all the other Cuban and Latin bands. The same crowd that couldn’t see past Buena Vista and appreciate the great bands from New York, Cuba and the Caribbean. It was musicians like Eddie Palmieri, Adalberto Alvarez, Papo Lucca, Eddie Zervigon, Larry Harlow, etc. who brought something fresh into the traditional Cuban repertoire. They built upon that traditional foundation, and never lost site of its roots. Their respect for the old masters such as Arsenio Rodriguez, Fajardo, Lilí Martinez, Aragón, etc. came through in every record they ever made. What Buenavista did was a complete about face, that is to say that they actually took it way back in time, to the roots, which was beautiful in its own right. No one ever knocked what they did, on the contrary we all respect them greatly for giving us that foundation. But we must also acknowledge that there are many new artists who continue to build upon that foundation, thereby enhancing our traditional values. I think that it is an affront to those values to create a musical time freeze within which all refinement or experimentation cannot be respectfully encouraged or analyzed with an open mind. That which cannot be permitted to evolve will surely decay over time. To block the most creative minds in our talent pool is to sentence them (and us) to a life of repetition in an ever changing world. Granted, every new and different idea throughout man’s history began its journey crudely, rough around the edges, much like we all do at the beginning of our lives. Hopefully, with proper education and encouragement we can become valuable contributing members of society. This is something that the”traditionalists” can’t seem to get straight!
CAP: I see what you mean Harvey, but still, these so called “elitists” were not then and are certainly not now in the majority, they are and always will be a minority.
HA: Yes, but they have amazing power and are very influential in political and economic circles. Also with the media as well. I think Buena Vista’s debut album did approximately a million units. It was that elitist minority who initially supported Buenavista and who eventually pulled the latino audience into it, but that was way later. Let me point something out to you and the readers. Initially, Buena Vista Social Club was a very interesting promotional concept that began to snowball beautifully according to plan. Long before the movie ever came out it was a home run. People (and they know who they are) who never called me to discuss any specific musical work were now calling to tell me about this fabulous Cuban group and this great new album that they had purchased at Barnes & Noble or Borders. The album was beautifully executed, but musically speaking there was absolutely nothing new about it except the addition of American pop artist Ry Cooder and his twangy Hawaiian guitar sound. To me the most remarkable achievement was that some 1000 plus years of Cuban historical talent was still able to perform in the studio and on stage so well. More than fifty years ago Harlow and I were learning our craft listening to the same music and loving it while growing up in Brooklyn. Buenavista was a resurgence that turned into a grass roots word of mouth movement and a promotion campaign of the highest degree. First of all, the word was out that Buenavista would never get any airplay because the stateside Cuban owned radio stations and the Spanish media would boycott them as they did every other artist from Cuba. Therefore, Nonesuch Records didn’t waste any money on traditional promotional methods, not a dime was spent on radio promotion or TV. Instead, they spent their initial promotional budget at Barnes & Noble, Borders book stores, Starbucks, etc., places where the intellectual bunch go to read, buy books and music or just drink coffee. That was exactly how they started to promote this group’s album. Secondly, there was a political angle to it as well, which helped sell the concept. Can you imagine this? Here we have a group of senior Cuban artists who had long been discarded and forgotten in their own homeland and who were not being formally recognized in the USA because of the dreaded embargo! It seemed to be the politically correct thing to write about then, and would be even more appropriate now. Their story received a lot of ink, in the New York Times, Washington Post, LA Times, Time Magazine, Newsweek, etc. It was a great story, very romantic. The musicians themselves were very good, and then you had an icon like Ry Cooder promoting them as well. Cooder was the brains behind the whole thing and I’m not surprised that a non-latino had the vision and was responsible for the success of the project. Often times it takes an outsider to see something that those who are in the middle of it all cannot. Kind of like the old “you can’t see the forest for the trees” syndrome. Initially and for a good while, the CD sold mostly in book stores, etc. and very little in record stores and other outlets. Little by little it mushroomed into a monster seller. Of course, when the record and big box stores saw how well it was selling, they picked up on it and immediately stocked it.
CAP: I can understand the analogy here, but this was long after the demise of latin jazz. It seems odd to me that you would cite the jazz purists exclusively, as I do recall that it was those same purists who fell head over heels in love with Machito’s Roulette recording of “Kenya”, which remains to this day a classic piece of music and a prime example of how well fusion can work. In contrast to what you have said, the “latino music purists” of that era (for lack of a better word) rejected that album totally (at that time). The rejection worked in reverse. In regards to that type of purism, they were no better than the jazz elitists that you have mentioned here Harvey. And there were other factors involved. First and foremost, I think, the “salsa” boom overshadowed latin jazz, even though many salsa bands still played it somewhat. Subsequently we had all these other modalities which came later, such as merengue house, funk, disco, reggaeton, etc., and even the newly arrived timba, which is nothing more than old school funk with a lot of Afro-Cuban percussion and jazz/rap vocals added on top. Each one of these fads has taken their toll, and has invariably swayed the listener’s attention away from latin jazz. While we baby boomers still remember it fondly, the now generation does not seem to care much about it. Let’s look at some of the causes for that, from your perspective that is.
HA: Okay. Initially, Jerry Massucci was one of the main causes, at least I have to think so.You see, Fania was like Motown in many ways. Motown started out black, then it changed its focus and its image within the genre. Fania on the other hand created an image. In its own way, it was a movement, even stronger I think in latin music than Motown was in r&b/soul, where you still had Atlantic, Stax/Volt and all the other labels competing within that market and genre. Even so, it is the Motown sound that to this day remains the most powerful force ever from the genre of black American music, as evidenced by how much Motown material we hear every day in movies, TV radio, commercials, compilation albums etc. And so it is with Fania – only to a lesser degree – because it is a musical and ethnic niche that could never captivate the anglo mainstream.
CAP: Why so?
HA: Too much prejudice still abounds in our country. Yet “Our Latin Thing” remains so amazingly resilient and powerful in the “latin” world and beyond. Motown and Fania were very similar in that they both signed younger artists and had more of a street sound. Even with the established artists like Pacheco, Harlow and Barretto, it was a very young Willie Colon with Hector Lavoe, Ruben Blades and later on Ismael Miranda who sold the most units.To have been on Fania was and remains a prestigious thing. People would go into a record store and ask: “what’s new on Fania?” and still do because of all the excellent compilations that are being released every month.
CAP: A very popular and influential label indeed, but there were two other latin labels who were competing strongly with Fania as well, weren’t there? Caytronics and your own label, Coco.
HA: Yes, and I’ve been told that collectors, audiophiles and hard-core latin music lovers did something similar with my label. They would go into a record store and buy almost everything new that came out on Coco. I think that this was because the quality of Coco’s productions and our much smaller carefully chosen artist roster. We had built a trusting relationship with our audience and the radio. The expectation was that if it was on Coco it had to be good. My label had to go to tremendous extremes to be different than Fania, which we did intentionally and I thank God to a great degree it worked.
CAP: And Caytronics?
HA: Truthfully, Caytronics never really got that big with the young crowd anyway. Joe Cayre was a brilliant business man, and he made out like a bandit by licensing product from RCA, Columbia, Ariola, and other companies from abroad as well, displaying and selling his product in large big box retail outlets and chain stores around the USA and Puerto Rico. But he didn’t have the passion for the music in the same way Jerry and I did. You pretty much had to produce your own music to get “into it” the way we did. Don’t get me wrong, Joe Cayre did put out some great music on the label’s two subsidiaries, Mericana and Salsoul (ie Cachao, Roberto Torres, Chocolate and Grupo Folklorico y Experimental). His licensed product included Vicky Carr, Roberto Carlos, Camilo Sesto and the icon Julio Iglesias, who was a very big seller. The big labels at that time, RCA, Columbia, Ariola, etc. were not licensing or releasing music that their own subsidiaries were recording in all the Latin American countries and Mexico. Yes, there were three labels that were manufacturing large amounts of records, but they were all different. I was the only one who was competing with Fania big time. Caytronics had no competition at the time, amazing but true. There were other labels that popped up later on, when Coco was no longer around, but they never produced the quality of music that Coco did. I never viewed myself as a “salsa producer only”, as I produced all types of latin music. Nor did I view Coco as just a “salsa” record company. From the beginning, Coco was conceived as a full service Spanish record company, period. Even before the Eddie Palmieri fiasco, I had started to branch out. I could never understand why Morris Levy and Jerry Massucci didn’t want to encompass the full spectrum of latin music. You went into these countries and it was always the same distribution set-up, maybe some different radio stations or formats, maybe a few deejays would be mixing different genres, but the potential for sales was always there. If it was in Spanish, and it was very good, then there was no reason for me not to put it out, promote and sell it. So you see Coco was different than Fania from the gitgo, and I wanted us to be different. I could never have competed with Jerry’s beloved Fania label by releasing only “salsa” records and imitating his business model. Also important in Coco’s development was my love for all the different styles and flavors of “la musica latina”. I could never be that one dimensional. Coco had monster hits in balada (Spanish rock ballad) pop, musica folklorica and of course my beloved “salsa”.The bar that Coco set musically with “The Sun Of Latin Music” for salsa was also set for latin jazz via Cortijo’s “La Maquina Del Tiempo” (Time Machine). In latin pop the standard bearer was “Muy Amigos” featuring “Para Decir Adios”. Among the New York style charanga bands it was Orchestra Broadway’s “Pasaporte” featuring “Isla Del Encanto” that broke the mold. In Puerto Rican folkloric music it was Danny Rivera’s “Alborada”, an album that was way ahead of its time.
CAP: Seems to me that neither you nor Jerry Massucci were interested in latin jazz, am I correct?
HA: Look Chico, personally I loved it, but as a businessman I could not afford to invest time and money in such a small market, not back then, and certainly not now either. The TropiJazz label drove Ralph Mercado into bankruptcy, or at the very least it was the beginning of his problems. At one point in time I asked him: “why are you wasting your money and energy on this music that is selling so poorly?” You see we had that kind of relationship. I could talk to him, and he had respect for my opinion. I was the record man and he was the promoter. He was selling aproximately six thousand units of his top TropiJazz artists like Tito Puente, Eddie Palmieri and even less on releases by Giovanni Hidalgo, etc. He showed me some numbers that made me gasp. The artwork alone on one of Giovanni’s CD’s cost him six big ones, because he had to do the cover art twice! It seems that Giovanni did not like the way the cover came out, a cover which he himself had commissioned. I said: “Ralphy, this is a losing proposition, there are very few outlets to expose this music to the public”. I mean there was only one major jazz station that was playing his artists. He told me that he always wanted to be number one in some category of the record business, and that could only happen in the latin jazz category. Maybe he loved the music enough to take the risks he was taking. I just don’t know. The reality was that these records were not selling well, and TropiJazz was consistently bleeding money. Now you might be thinking, well then, what were the reasons? Was it lack of exposure? Lack of outlets? Or simply lack of demand? When we venture into such a territory we have to be able to control these things. We have to be in control of the marketing, the distribution and the promotion in order to create the demand. You can take that any way you want to, but that’s the name of the game in the record business. So then, if we assume that he did have those things under control, what else could have resulted such low sales figures? For me, lack of demand is the only logical answer.
CAP: Are you saying then that it was the music that did itself in?
HA: Let me put it this way Chico. I think that the latin jazz of the fifties and sixties was better music, and today’s musicians are partly to blame for the lack of demand. I’m going to use this as a point of reference, when a jazz player first comes to New York, their initial work probably is going to be with the latin bands, specially if they’re horn players, but this goes for other instrumentalists also. You usually break into the New York scene by playing latin music, because there is or at least there was a lot of work in that field. That was the case in my time. Back then most of the good bands were doing doubles and triples. If you were a new guy in town and the musicians liked the way you played they would recommend you to the latin bandleaders they knew. Anyway, Chick Corea was around at that time, and I needed a piano player for a gig. Marty Sheller was playing with me and he brought Chick to play with the Arvito band a few times. Chick is a great all around player, and has had a beautiful career as a jazzman, but since those early days, he has not really done a lot of latin music, possibly none at all I would say. So, what’s been happening for too long a time is that for some reason – and I’m no expert on this – but maybe, once the artists get back into the jazz circuit they get a little too high falootin’ and never again visit their latin roots. I have always wondered about that. Certainly, Eddie Palmieri has never forsaken those roots – and remember – I haven’t heard an awful lot of latin jazz in the last few years. There aren’t a lot of places to hear it either, unless you buy a recording. I also often wonder how Paquito D’Rivera and Arturo Sandoval’s jazz records are doing – sales wise that is. I know that Dave Valentin has made a bunch of records and Poncho Sanchez also records quite often. I wonder how they are really selling. That’s always in the back of my mind, because I like all that stuff, it’s really good music and I wish it would make a comeback and find an audience. But it has to be more commercial for me to get back into it, most of it just doesn’t stand up to the more melodic classic latin jazz of my era. Also Chico, you know how I hate making good musical productions that basically don’t get heard and never see the light of day.
CAP: I know, I know, and in my early days I too had my share of “tax shelters”. As far as TropiJazz is concerned though, I won’t dispute what you say Harvey, because I haven’t seen the figures. But I can say (from experience) that latin jazz is definitely a musician’s genre, and that they do support it, among themselves. You know, musicians actually buy CD’s these days. But the general public? Well that’s another story. I personally don’t think that they do, otherwise you would see and hear a lot more bands playing latin jazz and record companies recording it.
HA: Well Chico, it’s not a business then, is it? If the musicians are not hard-wired enough to incorporate both styles with recognizable elements into their repertoire and the public is not attracted to what they are playing, like the bands used to do in the old days, or like the case of the well promoted Buenavista Social Club, then maybe they deserve what is happening to them. I just don’t know. It’s hard enough for latino musicians to get their own typical music played, much less getting any of their more jazzy stuff to cross into the mainstream. Anyway, I feel the music which I produced for Coco was also very well received and respected by musicians and critics alike, even if it wasn’t all that jazz tinged. If the bands that I produced and worked with back then could do it, why can’t the bands of today do it?
CAP: Personally, I try to separate the two different musical categories. Whenever the gig calls for latin jazz, then that’s what I play, sans the vocals. If it calls for a more dance oriented music, with strong vocals then that’s what I give them, with more emphasis on the montuno and less free-blowing. Some audiences are comfortable with both styles. For the most part, the music falls into separate categories, and even the radio stations divide it up this way. It’s not like in the Palladium era, when both styles were incorporated into the repertoire, fifty-fifty, and when the radio stations featured both styles within their playlists. On my radio show of course, I do just the opposite, I mix them all up, because there are no restrictions on me, in terms of what I can or cannot play. That’s the beauty of non-commercial radio, you are not being tagged as this thing or that. At least I’m not.
HA: That was also the case in my early experiences as a bandleader. No one could pigeon-hole me. Remember that I had Marty Sheller working with my band, and he was very well versed in both styles, which meant that we had a healthy balance of both jazz and latin. Marty really knows how to get a nice blend and he incorporated that fusionistic approach again during his time with Mongo. The same thing happened with Eddie’s first band “La Perfecta”, when he had Barry Rogers playing with him. In retrospect I think that most latin bands had that kind of integrated sound, although not all of them to the same degree. But to me, the consumate latin jazz recording of my time was done by Sabu Martinez, and that was another project in which Marty was involved. It was a black cover with an illustration on the cover, I think it was a bongosero or a conga player.
CAP: You must mean “Sabu’s Jazz Espagnole”, which by the way was a commercial flop for Al Santiago’s Alegre label. Yet, it still remains a helluva recording, a classic among classics.
HA: That’s the one Chico. And I still love it, even though I haven’t heard it in thirty years. It’s my favorite latin jazz album from that time period. I think it was recorded live at Birdland, with Marty Sheller playing trumpet solos and doing some of the killer charts. I even think Frank Malabe and Bobby Porcelli were in the band, and Symphony Sid had something to do with it as the announcer on the recording. It’s been a long time since, but I know that both Marty and Frankie were in the Arvito band at a very young age prior to that recording, so I guess my ability to spot young up and coming talent has always been an important element in my career. My active search for new talent continued long after my performing days were over and still continues. It always gives me great pleasure to discover new and talented artists. Believe me when I say that I can appreciate both Al Santiago’s and Ralph Mercado’s willingness to record this music and these artists, despite taking a financial beating by doing so. We all loved this music, and we all made some records that didn’t sell well, but made us feel warm inside. That’s the nature of the beast. But we must always try to remember that we are in the music and record business and we have the same problems, responsibilities and obligations as every other business.
CAP: I take it then that the TropiJazz label was not successful in its endeavor, correct?
HA: Correct. But don’t take my word for it, I would ask Eddie Rodriguez if I were you, he practically ran that label. He knows the figures, but I can tell you right now that very few of those albums ever sold six thousand units, if they ever got that high and most sold a lot less. All those albums cost way too much to produce, considering the soft sales potential, there was just no profit coming in. The lesser known artists sold even less copies. What they did was create a resurgence among the musicians who loved to play that music. The reality is that latin jazz was something that Ralphy liked and he wanted to do right by it. If the major labels would have decided to invest in that music then he would have never been number one in latin jazz. He cornered the market so to speak, but the market betrayed him, and it was only good to a handful of artists, those who had the big names made their money on the gigs. What happened to Ralph Mercado was not unique, other latin jazz labels met the same fate.
CAP: In your opinion, what would bring back latin jazz to the point where it was in the sixties? Please sum up this whole phenomenon for us, if you will. (Harvey pauses for a long moment)
HA: Maybe some good songs, by this I mean “hit” songs. Material that is really musically sound to begin with – not necessarily original – but hey, enough with the standards already. Something that has the attraction of a “Watermelon Man” or a “Mas Que Nada”, something with a really good commercial hook. You know, everything doesn’t have to be instrumental. A lot of these artists are really just showing off their chops, and they don’t take into consideration that the audience may not want to hear a fifteen minute solo. Why not make the solos shorter, and don’t start blowin’ right away. Constructing a good performance is like romancing a woman. The first thing to come out of your mouth should not be “hey baby, let’s jump into bed”, even if that’s what you both want to happen. No, you take her out, you have some nice conversation, you wine, you dine, you make her feel comfortable, a strong communication must be established, and then you hope that what you show her, (who you really are) creates some interest on her part. You do the same thing with an audience, and it doesn’t matter whether they are a jazz audience or not. You first have to find your audience and then meet them at their level. Then you take them step by step on a musical journey with you. Don’t just play for your own enjoyment or to impress other musicians, play to the audience and to the guys in the band. If you do your best to please them, then hopefully they will feel your good vibes and follow your lead. By the way, this holds true for any kind of music. You can’t just hit ’em on the head and say “dig this, I’m bad”! The last thing you want to do is act like an arrogant putz– (that’s Jewish for jerk) – and don’t disrespect them afterwards by implying “wow, this was a great album and nobody bought it – it was way over their heads and that’s why it didn’t sell”. It’s so easy to blame the audience for everything. “People don’t know shit” is a phrase that I’ve heard come out of musicians mouths a hundred or more times. In my own case, I messed up big time with “La Maquina Del Tiempo” (Time Machine), because I didn’t think about the audience. Chico, I was in musical lala land, totally enchanted by the music and the charts, in fact I was so into it that I forgot about the audience. I still have mixed emotions about it, because even though everyone always compliments me on the album (including my production and mixing), in addition to the wonderful job that the musicians did, I know that I could have done more to widen its appeal. In fact I met this week with Tony Moreno and Juan Hidalgo of MP/JN about fixing UP that album.
CAP: You once said to me that no one could dance to Cortijo’s “Time Machine” because it was too fast. So then isn’t that an equally important element, if not the main element in latin jazz, the not-so-secret ingredient that made the latin jazz of the sixties so popular?
HA: True, it appears to be a very important element, but I’m not so sure that it’s the main element. Take a great artist like Dave Valentin for example, he probably won’t appeal to a strictly dance crowd. You see, if Dave is constructing his music specifically for a concert jazz audience, remember he is first and foremost a great flautist and primarily a jazz artist. As such I think he would tend to downplay the danceability part of it. The latin undercurrent is there, because no latino ever forsakes his or her roots completely, but it doesn’t play a dominant role. Straight ahead “salsa” artists on the other hand use a minimal amount of jazz elements on top (mainly in the harmonies and phrasing) but keep the basic clave foundation intact. With “Watermelon Man”, “Soul Sauce”, “Cuban Nightmare”, “Mambo Inn”, “Manteca”, “El Mundo De Las Locas”, etc. you had a more even kind of mix. Mongo, Cal, Machito, Mario, Dizzy and both Titos were geniuses at perfectly blending the two worlds, so their music was more of a fifty-fifty proposition. And while I still think fondly of the Sabu album, it’s been so long since I’ve actually heard it that, well who knows, maybe I might not even include it among my favorites today. So much has transpired since then, decades of jazz tinged music has been recorded, plus I’ve grown musically as well. I’d like to listen to it again and re-evaluate it. Hey, Bobby Marin or somebody out there, please send me a copy (laughter).
CAP: While we are on the subject of geniuses Harvey, mustn’t leave out those two bulwarks of the musical score sheet, Mr. Rene Hernandez and Mr. Arturo “Chico” O’Farrill.
HA: No way would I leave them out. They were both giants in their own right. Even though I never had the opportunity to work with Chico O’Farrill I loved the work he did with other artists. Unfortunately, he did not live in New York at that time, although I’m sure that his genius would have eventually wound up on the Coco label, in one way or another, had not the label gone under. I did however, have an ongoing artistic andpersonal relationship with Rene Hernandez. I bumped into him while he was living in Puerto Rico, right after his television gig in San Juan with Tito Rodriguez had ended. Both Eddie and I instinctively knew that Rene was the man we needed for our next project together. I must tell you, watching Rene Hernandez and Eddie Palmieri collaborate on an arrangement was really something to behold. It was an honor for me to be present in the same room [and] working with these guys. They would play off each others ideas, [and] it was more than just a give and take situation. It was like an exquisite meeting of the minds. Rene was a master arranger, quite experienced, with a proven track record[,] and a very humble man indeed. He was a keen observer who patiently “listened” to you and understood exactly what you needed. I don’t think any other arranger ever understood Eddie Palmieri the way Rene did, he was amazingly respectful of Eddie’s input. An unorthodox chord here, a few notes added there, a break that was originally not even supposed to happen, and so forth and so on. Often, a particular idea by one of them would spark the other’s imagination, igniting each other’s creativity and before you knew it –voilá!– it was like witnessing music at its inception, in its purest form. The music they created was so magical. Together, they constructed many a masterpiece. I’m very happy that you brought him up Chico. Neither Eddie, Coco nor I have ever completely recovered from the blow of Rene’s demise. The only real big hit that Eddie had after Coco was “El Dia Que Me Quieras” (on Fania), sung by the great Cheo Feliciano. Not surprisingly, that too was a Rene Hernandez arrangement, and one that Eddie had been holding onto for a long time. Rene’s legacy is preserved not only on that classic tango/salsa number, but on many of Coco’s Grammy winning recordings, as well as hundreds of other albums, for posterity.
CAP: Besides “Unfinished Masterpiece”, were there any other incidents that would go down as unsavory or unusual, in your opinion?
HA: There was this one night of negotiation with Ismael Rivera in a bar in La Perla, Puerto Rico. I was preparing to produce Cortijo y Su Combo Original’s “Juntos Otra Vez”. It would be a live concert and album recorded at Roberto Clemente Coliseo in PR. Ismael got mad at me because I wouldn’t give in to his insane money demands and he left me stranded, alone in a part of town that no gringo should ever be in by himself. I looked around and as my heart began to race, I knew I had to think fast. I started playing music on the juke box – Cortijo, Harlow, El Gran Combo, La Lupe, Danny Rivera, Celia Cruz, Eddie Palmieri, Hector Lavoe, Willy, Andy, Pellin, Miranda, etc. – all the people that I had worked with or knew in the past. My knowledge of the music, the lyrics, my bar top conga drumming (breaks and all) and my coro singing probably saved my ass. Buying a few rounds for everyone probably didn’t hurt either (laughter). When Ismael came back a couple of hours later he expected to find a desperate record executive who was ready to give in to his outrageous demands. Instead we all welcomed him to the party! He laughed and said: “Harvey, you sanamambíche”. The negotiations were over right there, without another word being spoken. I thanked him, we shook hands and I handed him the bar tab. Chico, the look on Ismael’s face, I know you can see this picture in your mind’s eye, because you have to know him to appreciate this. His smile turned to a look of amazed disbelief and then as his anger was about to explode, I started laughing and told him that I had already paid it. This is not just another one of your everyday “Salsa Saves A Jew” stories, this is a part of latin music history.
CAP: So then it wasn’t all that bad, right? Fun was surely had by all who knew and loved this music. What happened then? To stifle the growth of such an up and coming label?
HA: Chico, no one knows the real behind the scenes stories like I do. I will simply state here for the record, in my own quotable words that there had to have been a deal cut between my dishonest scheming partner (who was in charge of administration and distribution) and a certain crooked shoe salesman turned 10th Avenue distributer, probably using an east coast manufacturing plant’s back door to rip off Coco at it’s peak moment of success (we had the biggest receivables due for a 4th quarter during the 1977 Christmas season or any 12 week period in our history). There were, for example, altered check alerts from my bank, and bookeeper and accountant discrepancies. I still don’t know how I got caught up in it, I was an idiot to let my artists and myself down. We all got screwed and I blame myself for not seeing the handwriting on the wall and for not looking over my shoulder. Too busy I guess. Just as disco music was putting a stranglehold on “salsa”, Coco Records went belly up – Chapter Eleven. I was just beginning to take off and go full speed ahead with Coco, and it was over in a flash. Puff! What a terrible waste and an unnecessary tragedy. In the final stages of the conspiracy, Audio Fidelity Enterprises bought Coco out of bankruptcy for only $70,000, my ex-partner stayed on with them and ran the label into the ground for the second time. Audio Fidelity owner Danny Pugliese met me once at the Casino in Cannes and informed me that he had been hoodwinked, and that he had no idea that I was the whole show at Coco and that my partner didn’t know which end was up.
CAP: And after that?
HA: I hung in there, doing Euro/Disco productions while living in Paris and Belgium, I even had a few international disco hits as producer and mixer. I worked with Regine and Patrick Hernandez of “Born To Be Alive” fame, etc. But my heart was always in my latin music. My accumulative experience as President and/or General Manager running labels such as Fania, Vaya, UA Latino, Coco, Graffitti, Gala and Prism gave me an edge that most producers or executives today can’t comprehend. In my way of thinking the music is always first and foremost. If you worry about the music, it will automatically take care of everyone and everything, includingthe bottom line (as long as the money people are honest). As producers, we take credit when the record is a hit, but should also take full responsibility when it flops.
CAP: Who were some of your contemporaries in the business, those whom you viewed as “real” producers, who cared about the music and the bottom line, groundbreakers whom you admired or liked their work? Your favorites, if you will.
HA: Before I answer let me just say this, a real producer should never think about the bottom line, because it’s not really ours. We should only think about the music, and making hit records that will ultimately create dollars, never forgetting for a moment that it’s the fans that we are trying to seduce with our humble efforts. I don’t equate the two. Do you?
CAP: No, but that doesn’t mean that I like to throw away my money, just for the sake of art. It is after all, a business.
HA: Chico you are so right. Ultimately, it has to be about the bottom line, but it’s not the main reason that we go into the music business. We do it to produce music that the public loves, and they in turn show us some love by buying our records. This is our life’s work and the way we reap the rewards. Everything takes care of itself if you sell product, a producer doesn’t worry about the bottom line anymore than Joe Torre worried about the Yankees’ bottom line. Ball players worry about banging out homers, striking out the other players and winning games. We producers worry about producing hit records and that ultimately benefits everyone involved. Let Universal, Sony, BMG, EMI, Warners, etc. worry about the bottom line, it’s never been talent’s problem. We just want to do great music and get paid well for our work. Yeah, that’s the ticket, to make some money, and of course keep the music real. If I may Chico, I’d like to describe to you and your readers what ecstacy is to Harvey Averne. It’s turning on the radio, flipping the dial to three or four stations to find that they are all playing the same song, my song. My friend, that’s even better than sex.
CAP: I can really relate to that Harvey, except maybe about the sex part (laughter). But all kidding aside, who are your favorite producers?
HA: There were some producers who really took chances and tried to do something different. My list includes Sergio George, Ramon Sanchez, Al Santiago, George Goldner, Willie Colón, Barry Rogers, Don Costa, David Foster, Quincy Jones, Manuel Alejandro, Gilberto Santa Rosa, Joe Cuba, Larry Harlow, Marco Antonio Solis, Rudy Perez, Gustavo Santaolalla, Cuto Soto, Isidro Infante and of course Ray Barretto. There are many producers who do very good work that are not on this list, but I have only listed the ones who I believe tried to bring the music to the next level. If I have forgotten anyone (and I’m sure that I did) I apologize in advance. It’s hard, uncertain and even scary work to break new ground. It’s so easy to fail and even if it’s good, what will the media think about this new music? Will the public like it? What about the “don’t change a note for me, not if you care for me, stay, funny valentine, stay” crowd? Scary stuff Chico, it’s way easier to stick with tried and proven formulas. Here’s something else. You can’t worry about false deadlines – deadlines killed more productions than Al Qaeda killed people. It takes nine months to have a baby and believe me my babies are my productions. Even if you are in a hurry you can’t rush it, the baby comes out when its ready and not a moment before. The illusive pursuit of perfection is maddening. I’m sure that’s what drove Ray and it’s what drives me as well. My early work as freelance producer helped shape the way I listen to a production and how I view the business end of it. Even more important to my development was my early experience as a working musician, dating back to those first summer resort gigs. I think I see the business from every perspective and it all seems so simple. It goes something like this; until an artist makes the cash register ring, they are not important to the business. The suits can live without you, they will give you such a hard time, they won’t even return your calls. Then, when you become a star (God willing) and are creating sales and dollars, it’s your turn. It’s payback time and now you have the leverage to get even. It’s just like in the real world, only now it’s probably you who won’t return the calls. Most successful producers and artists understand exactly what I mean. I hate that about the business, but that’s the way it is.
CAP: Where does Coco stand today? I mean the catalogue that is. Certainly you’ve been out of the Coco picture since the late seventies, and the material which has been reissued just doesn’t seem to meet the standards of the original releases.
HA: Chico, your observations are on the mark. Coco was bought from AFE by Tony Moreno of MP Records in 1989, and a lot of changes were made. Tony is one of my dearest friends, and knows better than anyone the amazing care that I put into every one of my productions. When I mentioned to him that some things did not sound like the final approved masters and mixes, he told me that some album covers and masters were not necessarily the final takes and that this was what AFE ultimately delivered to him. I guess Tony did the best he could with what he received, hence the different sound and covers on some of the recordings. I feel the changes that were ultimately made distorted the historical significance of these recordings, thereby altering a musical legacy which should have never been tampered with in the first place.
CAP: Any regrets?
HA: My only regret is that I didn’t stay and fight back when things got bad. I’m not bitter, but it did get ugly and I was so angry and heartbroken that all this historic material had been screwed around with from company to company. Most of what we’ve been talking about here, my work as producer for Coco, was done in a mere five year period between 1972-1977. I was getting so much better and learning with every production. Aside from Coco, another album that deserves special mention is “Naci Para Cantar” by Lalo Rodriguez, which I produced for the EMI Latino label. It went platinum – in case you didn’t know. This was done at the height of the “salsa sensual” period, when no other type of salsa was selling. My concept was as follows, and my instructions to Ramon Sanchez and the other arrangers before charts were written – was that Lalo, like myself, were graduates of the Eddie Palmieri School of Music. I wanted hard driving dance music – “salsa dura” that would not compromise who Lalo was in any way. The results I needed had to highlight extremely melodic sweet horn fills in all the right places, melodic vocals, inspiraciones and coros, all floating like an umbrella of sweetness above the uncompromising killer rhythms that Lalo was known for. Thus, giving the illusion and feeling of being in the “salsa sensual” mode, but in reality without holding back on the swing. Lalo’s voice was good, but not in top form for this album. In spite of this, it remains for me some of my best work and certainly some of my best mixes.
CAP: That’s it?
HA: No, I got more! I regret not having been on better terms with Ralph Mercado in the end. Jerry Massucci had this vision way back in the late sixties, and no one before him ever had that kind of vision or nerve. There were some great labels before ours, fine producers and artists, but no one else had ever come up with the idea of promoting latin music/salsa on a global scale. Ralphy and I were part of that vision, and we spent a lot of time and energy planning the campaign to spread “Our Latin Thing” around the world. Jerry was more of a doer, and a gambler. This man not only had vision, he had cojones like none other. The solid foundation that Jerry built was the primary reasons for me getting into the record business. We were all together on this, albeit each in our way, contributing our own particular expertise to the “salsa” recipe. Our musical differences of opinion were many, we disagreed on moral grounds and we differed in our business practices as well, but in the end we respected what the other had contributed to the campaign, whether individually or in unison. Deep down inside, I think we knew it was going to be more exciting and fun on the way up, maybe it always is. If you put aside the millions, the Grammy’s and all the awards and the sold-out concerts, if you put aside the egos and all the trimmings of fame and fortune, the bottom line is that the three of us were major fans of the music. We each loved this music, and it gave us all so much. For each of us latin music was numero uno, the thing we lived for. The day it became “the business of music” and more than just about the music, that’s the day the fun began to die. Now that Jerry and Ralph are both gone – and they will never be replaced – of this I am sure. I know that whenever I am asked a question in regards to the beginning of the “golden era of salsa”, the kind of question that only the three of us could answer, these two giants will be in my mind and in my heart. Chico, that was the best time of my life and no matter what I’ll always be glad that I was around to enjoy it. Also, I feel blessed to have been a part of Eddie Palmieri’s success as well. It wasn’t all negative you see. He was a great inspiration to me, I loved hanging out with the man and I learned so much about latin music from him.
CAP: Kinda reminds me of that old Bob Hope song….”thanks for the memories”. You’re not going to cry are you?
HA: No, Chico I’m not. But I do want to thank them all for the memories. More than fifty years worth of great memories my man. And I can’t wait to see what the next fifty is like.
CAP: Memories notwithstanding, what does the future hold for Harvey Averne?
HA: Well, I can’t foresee the future, but at present I have a great desire to combat the problems of the record business the way I always have, with commercial concepts and musical solutions. I like all the popular music of today, but my heart’s desire would be for Tony and Juan to bring me in to work on restoring the original Coco catalogue. I believe that if they were reissued again on Coco (distributed of course by MP/J&N Sony), restoring, preserving the original mixes and keeping the original covers intact, these masterpieces would sell all over again. That would make me, along with thousands of salsa music lovers and latin music historians very happy. I bet Juan and Tony would even be ecstatic about that (Harvey smiles). Coco aside, I would welcome the opportunity to work with the right company and explore some of my new ideas and concepts. The Harvey Averne of today wants to produce great hits with exciting new artists and make albums that no music lover can live without. Just like I always did. Anyway, no matter what the future holds for me Chico, looking back at all this with you, I sure had one helluva ride.
CAP: Well, Harvey, you know what they say, it ain’t over until the bearded guy sings…or something like that… (laughter)
Arvito: The Harvey Averne Story – Preamble
The Ottawa Latin Jazz Conference 2026 returns for its third edition from September 25 to 27, bringing together musicians, educators, students, and audiences to celebrate the growing presence of Latin jazz in Canada. At the center of the conference is Cuban pianist, composer, and musical director Miguel de Armas, whose journey from Cuba to Canada has shaped both his artistic career and his vision for creating a stronger Latin jazz community in Ottawa.
The story of the Ottawa Latin Jazz Conference (OLJC) is, in many ways, a story of growth, discovery, and community. From its first edition in 2024 to the second in 2025, the conference has steadily expanded its reach while remaining committed to its original purpose: creating a space in Ottawa where Latin jazz can be heard, discussed, studied, and experienced as part of Canada’s multicultural musical landscape.
Those first two editions also made something increasingly clear: there is a growing audience and a growing community for Latin jazz in Ottawa. The conference has become more than a series of performances. It is developing into a platform for cultural exchange, artistic discovery, education, and collaboration among musicians from different backgrounds and generations.
Miguel de Armas has played a central role in that evolution. His own journey has profoundly influenced the way he approaches the conference. His perspective is rooted not only in his experience as a musician, but also in his desire to recognize and showcase the talent that already exists within Canada’s diverse communities.
That was one of the central themes of our conversation as we looked ahead to the 2026 edition: how can the conference continue to grow while remaining open to new voices, new ideas, and the next generation of Latin jazz musicians?
That question brought us back to the beginning. Looking at the first two editions, I asked Miguel how he felt the conference had evolved and what lessons had helped shape this year’s edition.
Miguel de Armas: From Cuba to Canada
To understand the conference, it is also important to understand Miguel.
Trained musically in Cuba, de Armas developed a career connected to some of the most important experiences in Cuban popular music and contemporary jazz. He was a founding member of N.G. La Banda, one of the defining groups of the Cuban timba movement, and throughout his career in Cuba he worked and recorded with numerous artists and projects, building extensive professional and international experience.
Since moving to Canada, Miguel has continued to develop his career as a pianist, composer, arranger, and musical director. In Ottawa, he created the Miguel de Armas Quartet and later founded the Ottawa Latin Jazz Orchestra, a project that brings together members of the Cuban diaspora with musicians born or trained in Canada.
The orchestra combines original compositions, traditional Cuban melodies, jazz improvisation, and Afro-Cuban rhythms.
But perhaps one of Miguel’s most interesting qualities is not simply his work as a musician. It is the way he observes the musical community around him.
He explained this to me during our conversation. For Miguel, organizing a conference like this means constantly looking, listening, and discovering.
“I have the time to go out there and discover each artist. That’s what we always do.”
That sentence says a great deal about his philosophy. Miguel does not seem to view programming simply as a list of established names. Instead, he sees it as a process of discovery.
A Conference That Learns From Itself
When I asked him how the Ottawa Latin Jazz Conference had evolved through its first two editions and what lessons had helped shape the 2026 edition, his answer was very clear: the conference has to continually learn from itself.
After each edition, the team talks with artists, collaborators, and participants to hear their impressions, identify problems, and find ways to improve.
“Every time an edition ends, we sit down with the people who have been part of it and ask how the conference was, what we can improve, and what we can do differently.”
I found this particularly important because it explains one of the characteristics that distinguishes the project. The goal is not to repeat the same model every year.
“Every year we have to keep building on it and make it better.”
That self-critical attitude is also present when Miguel talks about the conference’s long-term vision. For him, the success of an edition is not measured only by audience numbers or by the names appearing on the program. After every conference, the team needs to listen to the audience, evaluate the response, and determine what can be improved.
“We will get together, draw our conclusions, see how the audience responded, look at the reactions, and then try to improve the next edition.”
In other words, the conference is conceived as an evolving process.
Canada’s Multicultural Talent Takes Center Stage
The third edition introduces another particularly significant emphasis: celebrating the extraordinary talent of Canada’s multicultural diaspora and its growing influence on the evolution of Latin jazz.
For Miguel, this direction did not emerge from an abstract concept. It came from something he has been observing personally in the Canadian music scene.
Over the past few years, he has been listening to musicians, attending concerts, following projects, and discovering artists who may not yet have the visibility they deserve.
“There is so much talent. And that is also what the conference is about: highlighting the cultural talent we have here in Canada.”
That “we” is important. For Miguel, Canadian Latin jazz should not be understood simply as music imported from Latin America. It is also music being transformed by the communities and artists who live and work in Canada.
And this brings us to one of the major themes of the 2026 conference: belonging.
Miguel believes that when Canadian audiences begin regularly hearing these artists, something changes. The Latin American musician is no longer perceived as an outsider and begins to become part of Canada’s cultural landscape.
As he told me:
“They begin to feel that they are artists who also belong here… and then they feel proud.”
For Miguel, that phenomenon is fundamental. He points to Hilario Durán as an example of another Cuban musician who has developed an extraordinary career in Canada.
“Hilario is Cuban, but he is also a Canadian musician.”
That sentence summarizes much of the philosophy behind the conference: it is not about choosing one identity over another, but recognizing the identities that coexist and enrich one another.
Discovering Artists Before They Become Well Known
One of the things I found most interesting in our conversation was learning how Miguel puts together the conference program.
His method is quite simple: listen.
He told me, for example, that he discovered Joy Lapps at Sunfest. He heard her perform live, watched her connect with the audience, and immediately became interested in her project.
“As an audience member, I watched her show and saw how she interacted with the audience.”
And that was where the invitation began.
With pianist Orlando Cardoso, the process was different. Miguel did not know him personally, but he did what he calls “the homework”: he followed his career, listened to his music, and became particularly interested in his recent work.
“This young man is serious, and he has a different proposal.”
That search for new voices explains the diversity of the 2026 program, which brings together artists from different backgrounds and generations.
Miguel also emphasizes the importance of balancing established figures with emerging artists.
“We have to go looking for the generations that are coming, because they bring their own language, their own way of doing things, and their own artistic vision.”
That balance appears to be one of the conference’s fundamental principles.
Hilario Durán: Memory, Experience, and Passing It On
The participation of Hilario Durán occupies a special place in the third edition.
For Miguel, this is not simply a matter of inviting an internationally recognized musician. There is a personal relationship that goes back to Cuba and, above all, an admiration that began many years ago.
When we talked about Hilario, Miguel remembered how young Cuban musicians of his generation followed his work and tried to learn his solos.
“Hilario was the reference point. We all wanted to learn his solos.”
But Miguel also emphasizes something he considers essential: Durán’s extraordinary preparation as a pianist, composer, and orchestrator.
He remembers Durán’s classical training, his work with Cuba’s Orquesta de Música Moderna, and his experience performing with musicians of the highest caliber, including Arturo Sandoval. All of that experience, he says, allowed Durán to arrive in Canada with an exceptionally strong professional foundation.
“He arrived with all the tools he needed to build a successful career here.”
In this third edition, Durán will not only perform. His participation will also have an educational dimension, particularly important for young musicians and students.
For Miguel, that generosity as a teacher is one of Durán’s greatest qualities.
“He is extremely generous when it comes to teaching.”
Durán’s presence therefore represents a connection between generations: a musician who was a reference point for a generation of young Cuban musicians, and an artist who has now become a reference point for a new generation of musicians in Canada.
Learning the Language of Latin Jazz
The educational dimension of the conference is another one of its pillars.
This year there is a special emphasis on Afro-Cuban rhythmic traditions and on strengthening the teaching of Latin jazz in Canada. For Miguel, this education is necessary because Latin jazz cannot simply be reduced to a label.
“It has its own language, its own way of feeling and organizing rhythm.”
He explained that even Canadian musicians with strong jazz backgrounds can initially find themselves challenged when they have to play certain Afro-Cuban rhythms.
“At first they are a little intimidated, but as time goes by, they become more flexible.”
The key, according to Miguel, is direct experience.
It is not enough to hear an explanation about these rhythms. Musicians need to play them, experience them, and interact with musicians who understand them from within.
“It is one thing to hear someone explain it. It is another thing to become involved in the project. That is when things change.”
This idea of immersion connects directly with the educational mission of the conference. The goal is not simply to talk about Latin jazz, but to create opportunities to experience it.
Inclusion as a Way of Building Community
Another concept that appears repeatedly throughout our conversation is inclusion.
The conference seeks to present established artists while also creating opportunities for emerging musicians and lesser-known projects.
“The conference has always been about inclusion, about bringing in young talent and international artists.”
Miguel believes that one generation cannot simply reproduce itself. More experienced musicians have a responsibility to seek out those who are coming next.
And this has a much broader cultural dimension.
As Canadian audiences discover these sounds and artists, a sense of belonging develops. Latin jazz begins to be recognized not as a peripheral expression, but as part of the country’s cultural landscape.
In this sense, the conference serves a purpose that goes beyond the stage: it helps build community, develop audiences, create opportunities, and establish relationships.
The National Arts Centre as a Partner
The relationship with the National Arts Centre has also been fundamental to the conference’s growth.
The first and second editions presented a well-organized project, a three-day program featuring concerts, panels, workshops, and networking opportunities.
The third edition continues that relationship, once again making the National Arts Centre a central venue for the conference.
For Miguel, this relationship represents much more than having access to a prestigious stage.
He remembers his early experiences at the NAC and the process of building an audience through consistent work.
“Working hard to build your own audience, to make people believe in you, and being truthful and sincere about what you represent is very important.”
Over time, that work creates trust.
“Now, when we present something, they say, ‘This is going to have quality.’”
That “seal of quality,” as Miguel describes it, is one of the important consequences of building a strong relationship with an institution like the National Arts Centre.
It also contributes to giving Latin jazz greater visibility and recognition within Canada’s cultural landscape.
Looking Ahead
At the end of our conversation, I asked Miguel where he sees the Ottawa Latin Jazz Conference five years from now.
His answer was once again consistent with everything he had said throughout our conversation.
He did not talk about turning the conference into a personal project or imposing a permanent formula. He talked about evolution and continuity.
“Evolving, obviously.”
And then he added something that I found particularly revealing:
“There is no exclusivity here. There is inclusivity.”
Perhaps that is the best way to summarize the spirit of the conference, and especially of this third edition.
The Ottawa Latin Jazz Conference was created to open a space for Latin jazz in Ottawa. And that space includes different generations, cultures, musical languages, and immigrant experiences.
“Since the beginning, the conference has been looking at the talent that already exists in Canada and recognizing that much of the future of Latin jazz is being built right here.”
Miguel de Armas knows this because he is seeing it firsthand. He hears it on stages, discovers it at concerts, talks to musicians, and follows their projects. Above all, he understands that a musical scene can only grow if there is a willingness to listen to those who are coming next.
The third edition of the Ottawa Latin Jazz Conference is not intended to close a chapter. On the contrary, it is designed as another chapter in a story that is still being written.
And, true to Miguel’s spirit, once the conference is over, the work will begin again: listening, asking questions, evaluating, learning, and looking for new ways to make it better.
Because, as Miguel himself told me, the conference must continue to evolve.
And perhaps that is precisely its greatest strength.
At a moment when creative work is increasingly mediated by algorithms, digital shortcuts and frictionless convenience, Emilio Solla offers an eloquent argument for something more tangible. Handmade, the Latin GRAMMY-winning pianist, composer and arranger’s fifteenth album as a leader, is more than a collection of sophisticated compositions. It is a defence of craft, patience, collaboration and the physical act of making music.
Released on March 13, 2026, by Club del Disco, the album reunites Solla with La Inestable de Brooklyn, his remarkable nine-piece New York ensemble. Its instrumental palette—winds, brass, violin, bandoneon, piano, bass, drums and percussion—allows him to create music with the detail and breadth of a chamber orchestra while retaining the responsiveness and improvisational freedom of a jazz group.
“Handmade is an apologia of the tactile,” Solla explains. “We are what we do, and what we make.” His statement establishes the album’s central idea: meaningful art emerges from sustained physical engagement, personal discipline and the interaction of human beings working together.
That philosophy is audible throughout the recording. Rather than using tango, jazz, Argentine folklore and classical composition as separate stylistic ingredients, Solla treats them as interconnected parts of his musical language. His arrangements can be intricate, but complexity never becomes an end in itself. Every shifting rhythm, instrumental colour and contrapuntal exchange serves an expressive purpose.
A Composer Between Buenos Aires and Brooklyn
Born in Argentina and based in New York, Solla studied classical piano at the National Conservatory of Music in Buenos Aires before earning a master’s degree in jazz composition from the Aaron Copland School of Music. He lived in Barcelona before relocating to New York, gradually developing a personal approach commonly described as tango-jazz: a language that combines Argentine tango and folk traditions with jazz improvisation, classical techniques and contemporary composition.
His career has included collaborations with Paquito D’Rivera, Arturo O’Farrill, Yo-Yo Ma, Edmar Castañeda, the Boston Symphony Orchestra and the WDR Big Band. His 2019 album Puertos: Music from International Waters won the 2020 Latin GRAMMY for Best Latin Jazz/Jazz Album, while earlier and subsequent projects received multiple GRAMMY and Latin GRAMMY nominations.
The late Latin Jazz Network critic Raul da Gama consistently recognized the depth of Solla’s writing. Reviewing Second Half, the first recording by La Inestable de Brooklyn, da Gama praised music that “soars in a manner that is rarely heard,” emphasizing the sophistication of the charts and the ensemble’s seemingly instinctive understanding of them. He also noted that the solo space served the music rather than individual display—a principle that remains fundamental to Handmade.
Five years later, reviewing Puertos – Music From International Waters, da Gama described Solla as a “poet of orchestral sound” and celebrated his ability to make individual instrumental colours stand out while still merging them into a unified texture. That assessment feels especially relevant here. Handmade may use a smaller ensemble than the 17-piece Tango Jazz Orchestra, but Solla draws an astonishing range of sonorities from nine musicians.
Suite de los Abrazos: Loss, Disorder and Recovery
The emotional and structural centre of the album is Suite de los Abrazos, a three-part meditation on the COVID-19 pandemic. Its movements are deliberately separated and presented out of narrative order—tracks one, three and five—following a sequence inspired by Julio Cortázar’s nonlinear novel Rayuela. Solla described the ordering as 3–5–1: the third movement appears first, followed later by the first and second.
“Suite de los Abrazos, III – Bodegón Caníbal” opens the album with layered percussion and a melody distributed among bass clarinet, saxophone, bandoneon, violin and trumpet. Tim Armacost delivers an expansive tenor saxophone solo before a tightly constructed fugato pushes the ensemble toward a vigorous joropo-inflected conclusion. David Smith’s trumpet brings brightness and release to music that initially seems shadowed by uncertainty.
“Suite de los Abrazos, I – Milonga Mutante” is more unsettled. Conceived as an evocation of the emergency-room chaos of early 2020, it begins with Rogério Boccato’s nervous brushwork as a twelve-tone-derived theme moves among Alejandro Avilés’s flute, Sara Caswell’s violin and Rodolfo Zanetti’s bandoneon. Mike Fahie’s trombone solo rises from the arrangement with force and imagination, embodying both instability and resistance.
The second movement, “The Loss,” is the suite’s emotional reckoning. Solla’s mournful piano melody is surrounded by restrained ensemble writing, while Edward Perez’s acoustic bass solo provides the performance with extraordinary warmth. Rather than dramatizing grief, the piece creates space for reflection, memory and tenderness.
By separating the movements, Solla avoids presenting the pandemic as a simple progression from crisis to resolution. Trauma, absurdity, grief and recovery appear as overlapping states—revisited rather than completed.
Homages, Borders and Musical Memory
The remaining compositions extend the album’s celebration of artistry, movement and cultural connection.
“Joni Mitchell” is an affectionate tribute rather than a direct stylistic imitation. Its syncopated piano figure reminded Solla of Mitchell’s own relationship with jazz, prompting the title. Alejandro Avilés’s alto saxophone moves confidently through an arrangement that is rhythmically playful yet meticulously structured.
“Miles Tango” joins Argentine dance rhythm to harmonies associated with Miles Davis’s second great quintet. Solla’s piano improvisation and David Smith’s muted trumpet animate the piece, which acknowledges Davis without resorting to quotation or pastiche. Solla instead imagines a meeting between two musical worlds, allowing tango’s pulse and modern jazz’s harmonic openness to reshape one another.
Sara Caswell becomes a central narrative voice on “Bird Song.” Written in the rhythm of the Argentine chacarera, the composition imagines a bird crossing the United States–Mexico border without recognizing the political boundary below. Caswell’s violin soars between contrasting musical environments, transforming the bird into a symbol of freedom, migration and the capacity of music to move beyond borders.
Caswell is equally compelling on “Para el Agua,” originally conceived for solo piano and later orchestrated for La Inestable. The expanded arrangement retains the intimacy of its origins while opening space for ensemble colour and an extended improvisation from Solla. The performance demonstrates why his music feels both composed and alive: formal detail establishes the architecture, but improvisation gives it breath. “La Carta” adds another dimension to the programme, while the closing “De Viento y de Sal” brings guest vocalist Sofía Tosello into the ensemble. Her warm, expressive delivery floats above a slow milonga, complemented by Zanetti’s evocative bandoneon. The result is an intimate conclusion—a return to the human voice after an album devoted to the many ways instrumental sound can communicate.
An Ensemble Built on Individual Voices
La Inestable de Brooklyn is not simply a vehicle for Solla’s compositions. Its musicians are essential to the work’s identity.
Tim Armacost moves between muscular tenor statements and the darker shades of clarinet and bass clarinet. Alejandro Avilés supplies agility and colour across soprano saxophone, alto saxophone, flute and piccolo. David Smith brings clarity and rhythmic precision to trumpet and flugelhorn, while Mike Fahie’s trombone provides both weight and mobility.
Sara Caswell’s violin and Rodolfo Zanetti’s bandoneon establish a particularly important connection to Solla’s Argentine heritage. Yet neither instrument functions as an emblem pasted onto a jazz ensemble. They participate fully in the counterpoint, improvisation and internal drama of the arrangements.
Edward Perez and Rogério Boccato form a rhythm section capable of navigating jazz swing, tango phrasing, chacarera, milonga and joropo without making those traditions sound compartmentalized. Guest percussionist Facundo Colmán expands the rhythmic foundation, and Sofía Tosello brings the album to a moving close.
Solla recorded the project at The Bunker Studio in Brooklyn in May 2025 after the band had spent more than a year performing and refining the repertoire. He has described the music as chamber-oriented and dependent on precision, while also acknowledging Duke Ellington’s influence on his practice of composing for the distinctive voices of particular musicians.
Music That Could Only Be Handmade
Paquito D’Rivera has praised the album’s balance between Solla’s Buenos Aires roots and the elegant jazz language that permeates the writing, calling it a recording worth hearing repeatedly.
That balance is indeed one of Handmade’s greatest achievements. The music is intellectually rigorous without becoming remote, emotionally resonant without becoming sentimental, and culturally grounded without treating tradition as something fixed. Tango, folklore, jazz and classical composition are not displayed behind glass. They are handled, tested, transformed and brought into contact with the musicians’ personalities.
Raul da Gama once observed that Solla’s compositions translate lived experience into orchestral settings. Handmade continues that work on an intimate scale. It transforms pandemic memory, artistic admiration, migration, environmental reflection and the daily discipline of craft into a living musical environment.
For listeners drawn to ambitious Latin jazz, contemporary orchestral writing, tango-jazz and deeply collaborative ensemble music, Handmade is essential. It rewards careful listening, but it never asks the listener to admire technique from a distance. Its craftsmanship is inseparable from its humanity. In an age of artificial convenience, Emilio Solla and La Inestable de Brooklyn remind us that the most meaningful music is still made through touch, breath, risk, attention and trust. Handmade is not simply an argument for preserving those values. It is their vibrant and persuasive embodiment.
Tracklist – Two-LP Edition
Side A
1. Suite de los Abrazos, III – Bodegón Caníbal
2. Joni Mitchell
Side B
1. Suite de los Abrazos, I – Milonga Mutante
2. Para el Agua
3. Suite de los Abrazos, II – The Loss
Side C
1. Miles Tango
2. Bird Song
Side D
1. La Carta
2. De Viento y de Sal
Credits – La Inestable de Brooklyn
Emilio Solla — piano, compositions, arrangements and conducting
Tim Armacost — tenor saxophone, clarinet and bass clarinet
Alejandro Avilés — soprano and alto saxophones, flute and piccolo
David Smith — trumpet and flugelhorn
Mike Fahie — trombone
Sara Caswell — violin
Rodolfo Zanetti — bandoneon
Edward Perez — acoustic bass
Rogério Boccato — drums and percussion
Guest Artists:
Sofía Tosello — vocals
Facundo Colmán — percussion
Album and Production Info
Album: Handmade
Artist: Emilio Solla & La Inestable de Brooklyn
Release date: March 13, 2026
Label: Club del Disco
Format: Double album; also released as a two-LP edition
Recorded: May 2025
Recording location: The Bunker Studio, Brooklyn, New York
Music: Nine original compositions by Emilio Solla
Production assistant: Raphaella Hero
Few musicians have expanded the sound of modern jazz as profoundly — and as joyfully — as Airto Moreira. Born in Itaiópolis, Santa Catarina, Brazil, on August 5, 1941, and raised in Curitiba, Airto emerged as one of the most original percussion voices of the late twentieth century, bringing the textures, rhythms, chants, colours, and spiritual force of Brazil into the centre of contemporary jazz, fusion, world music, and Latin jazz. His art is impossible to reduce to a single role. He is a drummer, percussionist, vocalist, composer, bandleader, collaborator, sound painter, and musical bridge-builder whose career connects samba, baião, maracatu, Afro-Brazilian ritual sound, bossa nova, jazz improvisation, funk, rock, and Afro-Caribbean rhythmic consciousness.
Airto’s importance lies not only in his virtuosity, but in the way he changed the idea of what percussion could do in jazz. Before his arrival on the North American scene, percussion was often treated as colour, accent, or “exotic” decoration. Airto made it structural. He showed that berimbau, cuíca, pandeiro, caxixi, bells, shakers, chants, whistles, hand drums, bird calls, and body-sound could shape form, energy, atmosphere, and improvisational direction. His playing could be earthy and ceremonial, explosive and playful, delicate and orchestral. It could ignite a groove or dissolve time altogether.
His breakthrough came at a moment when jazz was searching for new possibilities. Miles Davis was opening the electric door with Bitches Brew; Chick Corea was creating the lyrical fusion language of Return to Forever; Weather Report was imagining a new collective sound world; CTI Records was giving jazz a lush, cinematic modern identity. Airto was central to all of these developments. He recorded with Davis, became part of Weather Report’s early orbit, helped define the original Return to Forever, and released a series of landmark albums as a leader that fused Brazilian traditions with modal jazz, funk, fusion, and global percussion.
At the heart of this story is also one of the great artistic partnerships in modern music: Airto Moreira and Flora Purim. Their marriage and musical collaboration created a sound that was unmistakably Brazilian yet borderless, intimate yet cosmic, rooted yet futuristic. Together they helped give Brazilian jazz fusion its most human voice — a voice of movement, breath, improvisation, rhythm, and spiritual searching.
For listeners of Brazilian music, Afro-Caribbean music, and jazz, Airto Moreira’s career offers a living map of cross-cultural creativity. His work reminds us that rhythm is not simply a pattern; it is memory, ancestry, ritual, dance, ecology, resistance, and imagination.
“Airto Moreira did not simply add Brazilian percussion to jazz; he changed the way jazz could breathe, move and imagine rhythm.”
Early Life and Musical Journey
Airto Guimorvan Moreira was born in southern Brazil, in Itaiópolis, and grew up in Curitiba. His musical gifts appeared early. The National Endowment for the Arts notes that he showed a talent for percussion as a child, had his own weekly radio program, and by age thirteen was already earning a living as a professional musician. By sixteen, he had moved to São Paulo, where he performed in nightclubs and on television.
This early professional life is crucial to understanding Airto’s later originality. He did not come to jazz as an academic exercise. He came through the lived musical environment of Brazil: dance bands, radio, television, local percussion practices, popular song, and regional rhythm. The sounds that formed him included samba, bossa nova, baião, northeastern Brazilian traditions, street percussion, and the hybrid urban music of mid-century Brazil. His musicianship developed in real working conditions, where rhythm had to move bodies and communicate instantly.
By the 1960s, Airto was part of Brazil’s rapidly evolving modern music scene. He played with Sambalanço Trio and became associated with Quarteto Novo, the influential ensemble whose 1967 self-titled album fused baião, samba, and modern jazz. Quarteto Novo — with Hermeto Pascoal, Theo de Barros, Heraldo do Monte, and Airto — remains one of the essential Brazilian instrumental groups of the period. Its music pointed toward a Brazilian jazz language that did not imitate North American models but absorbed them into Brazil’s own rhythmic and melodic imagination.
In 1968, Airto moved to the United States with vocalist Flora Purim. The move was decisive. In Los Angeles, he studied with the great Brazilian composer and arranger Moacir Santos, then moved to New York, where Flora was singing with South African singer Miriam Makeba, and Airto began entering the jazz world through musicians such as Walter Booker, Cannonball Adderley, Paul Desmond, Lee Morgan, and Joe Zawinul.
Zawinul’s connection proved historic. He introduced Airto to Miles Davis, who recruited him for the Bitches Brew sessions and the electric bands that followed. Airto’s participation in Davis’s music placed Brazilian percussion at the centre of one of jazz’s most radical transformations. On Bitches Brew, Miles Davis at Fillmore, and related electric-era recordings, Airto’s colours helped expand the rhythmic palette of jazz beyond swing and straight eighth-note fusion into something more layered, ritualistic, and open-ended.
After Davis, Airto moved through two more defining chapters of jazz fusion. He joined Weather Report for its 1971 debut album, then became part of Chick Corea’s original Return to Forever with Flora Purim, Stanley Clarke, and Joe Farrell. The first Return to Forever recordings gave fusion a different identity from the heavier electric sound of Davis: more lyrical, Brazilian, melodic, and airborne. Airto’s percussion and Flora’s voice were essential to that identity.
“For Airto, percussion is not decoration. It is voice, memory, ceremony, atmosphere and improvisational force.”
Artistic Evolution and Style
Airto Moreira’s artistic language can be understood through three interlocking principles: rhythm as voice, sound as environment, and tradition as living transformation.
First, rhythm is voice. Airto does not treat percussion as background. His playing speaks. It laughs, whispers, chants, interrupts, dances, and provokes. The drum kit, hand percussion, berimbau, cuíca, and found sounds become a vocabulary. In this sense, he belongs to a deep Afro-diasporic lineage in which percussion is not merely musical timekeeping, but a carrier of speech, ritual, and community.
Second, sound is environment. Airto often builds atmospheres rather than simply grooves. His recordings can suggest forest, street, ceremony, carnival, studio experimentation, or collective trance. This environmental quality became especially important in the fusion era, when artists were searching for new sonic spaces. Airto’s colours gave electric jazz a sense of earth and body.
Third, tradition is living transformation. Airto’s Brazilian roots are never presented as museum folklore. He brings them into conversation with jazz harmony, improvisation, funk bass lines, electric keyboards, rock energy, and Afro-Caribbean rhythmic kinship. His music understands that Brazilian and Afro-Caribbean traditions share deep African diasporic foundations: call-and-response, polyrhythm, dance orientation, ritual memory, layered percussion, and the creative tension between repetition and improvisation.
This is why Airto’s work resonates so strongly within Latin jazz. Although his primary cultural foundation is Brazilian, his rhythmic imagination speaks naturally across the Caribbean and the Americas. His music can sit beside Afro-Cuban, Puerto Rican, Dominican, and pan-Latin jazz traditions because it is built on the same fundamental recognition: rhythm is cultural knowledge.
His style also helped reshape the role of the percussionist in jazz ensembles. In Miles Davis’s electric bands, Airto added density and atmosphere. In Return to Forever, he brought buoyancy and Brazilian lyricism. In his CTI recordings, he created a polished yet earthy fusion of Brazilian percussion, jazz soloing, orchestral arrangement, and groove. In his later world music projects, he connected Brazilian sound to African, Indian, Middle Eastern, and global percussion practices.
The partnership with Flora Purim is central to this evolution. Flora’s voice — agile, luminous, wordless, sensual, and emotionally direct — became a perfect counterpart to Airto’s rhythmic imagination. Their recordings together blur the distinction between song and percussion, melody and atmosphere. Airto often appears across Flora’s albums, including Butterfly Dreams, Open Your Eyes You Can Fly, and Carry On, while Flora’s voice is a defining presence in Airto’s own music.
Together they formed bands, toured internationally, recorded for major labels, and eventually created the Fourth World ensemble, a group that extended their Brazilian-jazz-fusion language into global music territory with José Neto, Gary Brown, and Jovino Santos Neto.
“Airto and Flora Purim created one of the most distinctive partnerships in modern Brazilian jazz — intimate, spiritual, rhythmic and borderless.”
Comprehensive Discography
The following discography focuses on Airto Moreira’s principal albums as leader or co-leader, including key collaborative projects with Flora Purim, Mickey Hart, Joe Farrell, Fourth World, Chick Corea, Eddie Gomez, Jacob Anderskov, and Ricardo Bacelar. It does not attempt to list every sideman appearance, as Airto’s session credits are extensive and span hundreds of recordings.
Natural Feelings — 1970
Airto Moreira’s debut as a leader introduced the essential ingredients of his musical language: Brazilian percussion, jazz improvisation, vocal colour, and deep rhythmic intuition. Featuring collaborators such as Flora Purim, Ron Carter, Sivuca, and Hermeto Pascoal, the album connected Brazilian modernism with the emerging possibilities of jazz fusion. Its atmosphere is earthy, exploratory, and intimate, framing percussion as a central expressive force rather than decorative accompaniment.
Seeds on the Ground: The Natural Sounds of Airto — 1971
This early recording deepened Airto’s connection to Brazilian roots, emphasizing organic percussion textures, vocal effects, and folkloric rhythmic imagination. The album’s title accurately reflects its aesthetic: natural sounds, ritual feeling, and the sonic landscape of Brazil. It remains one of his most culturally grounded works, bridging northeastern Brazilian traditions, samba, and experimental jazz sensibility.
Free — 1972
Released on CTI, Free is one of Airto’s landmark albums and a defining statement of Brazilian jazz fusion. With major collaborators including Flora Purim, Chick Corea, Keith Jarrett, Hubert Laws, Joe Farrell, George Benson, and arranger Don Sebesky, the album blends Brazilian rhythm, modal jazz, funk, and orchestral colour. It helped establish Airto as a visionary bandleader who made Brazilian percussion central to jazz’s new electric language.
In Concert — 1973
In Concert captures the dynamic performance energy that made Airto such a compelling live artist. His stage language combines percussion, vocals, physical movement, humour, and spontaneous interaction, transforming performance into a communal rhythmic event. The album is valuable because it documents the theatrical and improvisational dimension of his artistry, showing how his music expanded in front of an audience.
Fingers — 1973
One of Airto’s most celebrated CTI-era albums, Fingers includes the classic “Tombo in 7/4,” among his most enduring compositions. The recording combines Brazilian rhythmic sophistication with jazz-funk, electric fusion, and polished studio production. Its grooves are both danceable and intricate, demonstrating Airto’s gift for making complex meters and layered percussion feel natural, joyful, and accessible.
Virgin Land — 1974
Virgin Land continued Airto’s exploration of Brazilian percussion within the sound world of 1970s electric jazz. The album reflects the open musical climate of the period, combining spacious arrangements, electric instruments, layered percussion, and melodic improvisation. It stands as part of his fertile mid-1970s creative run, when his work as a leader paralleled his high-profile collaborations across jazz and fusion.
In Concert with Eumir Deodato — 1974
This collaboration placed Airto alongside Eumir Deodato, another Brazilian artist who helped shape the international sound of jazz-funk and orchestral fusion. The recording highlights the shared Brazilian rhythmic intelligence both musicians brought to the global stage. It also reflects the CTI-era aesthetic of elegant production, strong grooves, and sophisticated arrangements rooted in Brazilian and jazz traditions.
Identity — 1975
Identity is one of Airto’s most revealing titles, exploring the layered artistic identity of a Brazilian musician working at the centre of jazz fusion. The album is rhythmically vibrant, vocally expressive, and cosmopolitan, combining Brazilian percussion with electric jazz, funk, and global colour. It shows Airto sounding unmistakably Brazilian while fully participating in the international fusion movement of the 1970s.
Promises of the Sun — 1976
Promises of the Sun leans into warmth, groove, and melodic accessibility while retaining Airto’s deep rhythmic personality. The album reflects the optimism and sunlight suggested by its title, balancing sophisticated Brazilian percussion with jazz-fusion textures. It is an inviting recording that demonstrates his ability to make complex rhythmic ideas feel generous, lyrical, and open to a broad audience.
I’m Fine, How Are You? — 1977
This late-1970s album places Airto’s Brazilian percussion language within a more polished contemporary jazz-funk and pop-oriented setting. Its conversational title mirrors the album’s approachable spirit, while the music retains his unmistakable rhythmic signature. Rather than pushing toward avant-garde experimentation, the recording shows Airto integrating his sound into the broader production aesthetics of the period.
Touching You… Touching Me — 1979
Touching You… Touching Me earned Airto a Grammy nomination for Best Latin Recording, confirming his visibility beyond the jazz-fusion world. The album represents his late-1970s synthesis of Brazilian jazz, vocal textures, percussion, and accessible melodic writing. Its recognition by the Recording Academy helped affirm Airto’s importance within the wider Latin and international music landscape.
Flora Purim & Airto Moreira Live at the Hollywood Bowl 1979 — 1979
This live recording documents the remarkable artistic chemistry between Airto and Flora Purim in a major concert setting. Their performances together often blurred the line between concert, ritual, and celebration, combining Brazilian rhythm, wordless vocals, improvisation, and emotional immediacy. The album is an important document of their shared sound at the height of their international influence.
Return to Forever — 1980
Although not to be confused with Chick Corea’s band of the same name, Airto’s Return to Forever inevitably recalls his foundational role in the original Return to Forever sound. The album reflects the lyrical, Brazilian-inflected fusion language that he and Flora Purim helped bring to Corea’s early group. It stands as a continuation of Airto’s commitment to melody, rhythm, and open-ended jazz exploration.
Däfos — 1983 / 1989
Created with Mickey Hart and Greg Ellis, Däfos belongs to Airto’s global percussion chapter and explores rhythm as a complete sound world. The album moves beyond conventional jazz structures, focusing on resonance, texture, ritual, and the physical force of percussion. It is essential for listeners interested in Airto’s role as a sonic explorer and his connection to international percussion traditions.
Missa Espiritual / Misa Espiritual — 1983
Missa Espiritual reflects Airto’s lifelong interest in spirituality, ceremony, and the healing dimensions of sound. The project links Brazilian percussion, voice, sacred atmosphere, and global ritual feeling in a deeply personal way. Rather than functioning as a conventional jazz album, it presents music as meditation, prayer, and spiritual communication.
Latino / Aquí Se Puede — 1984 / 1986
Often associated with Airto’s Montuno period, Aqui Se Puede places his Brazilian vocabulary within a broader Latin jazz context. The album is meaningful for listeners of Afro-Caribbean and pan-Latin music because it brings Brazilian percussion into conversation with wider rhythms of the Americas. Its sound reinforces Airto’s ability to move between cultures while maintaining a distinct Brazilian identity.
Three-Way Mirror — 1985
A collaboration with Flora Purim and saxophonist/flutist Joe Farrell, Three-Way Mirror brings together three artists deeply connected to the lyrical side of jazz fusion. Farrell’s melodic voice, Flora’s singing, and Airto’s percussion create an intimate, fluid, and reflective sound. The album’s title suggests a musical dialogue among equals, with each artist refracting the others’ expressive strengths.
Humble People — 1985
Recorded with Flora Purim, Humble People reflects the couple’s continued commitment to Brazilian song, jazz improvisation, and rhythmic warmth during the 1980s. The album balances accessibility with musical sophistication, placing voice and percussion at the centre of its identity. It is part of the long creative partnership through which Airto and Flora sustained Brazilian jazz fusion across changing musical trends.
The Magicians — 1986
The Magicians continues the Airto-Flora partnership with a focus on Brazilian jazz, vocal improvisation, and global fusion colour. The title suits their artistic chemistry: together, they often seem to conjure music from rhythm, breath, atmosphere, and instinct. The album captures their ability to transform song-based material into something expansive, spiritual, and rhythmically alive.
The Sun Is Out — 1987
This Flora Purim and Airto Moreira collaboration carries the warmth, lyricism, and Brazilian optimism suggested by its title. The album reflects their shared gift for blending songcraft, percussion, and jazz improvisation into a welcoming but sophisticated sound. It belongs to the body of work that kept their musical partnership active and expressive through the 1980s.
Airto Moreira & Flora Purim Live at Jazzfest Bremen 1988 — 1988
This live document captures the international reach of Airto and Flora’s music during a period when Brazilian jazz fusion had found enthusiastic audiences around the world. The performance highlights their chemistry, rhythmic command, and ability to turn concerts into communal experiences. It also confirms their importance as global ambassadors of Brazilian jazz expression.
The Colours of Life — 1988
A collaboration with Flora Purim, The Colours of Life emphasizes the couple’s interest in music as a celebration of movement, feeling, and transformation. Its title reflects a recurring theme in their work: life expressed through rhythm, voice, colour, and improvisation. The album is lyrical and expansive, continuing their long exploration of Brazilian jazz fusion.
The Other Side of This — 1988 / 1992
The Other Side of This is one of Airto’s most spiritually oriented projects, exploring music’s relationship to healing, inner experience, and the unseen world. The album is less focused on conventional jazz structures and more concerned with atmosphere, percussion, and ritual sound. It offers a revealing portrait of Airto as a musician whose art reaches beyond entertainment into spiritual inquiry.
Samba de Flora — 1989
Samba de Flora serves as both a tribute to Flora Purim and a reaffirmation of Airto’s Brazilian roots. The album places samba at the centre of its identity, not merely as a genre but as memory, affection, movement, and cultural grounding. It is a warm and personal recording that reflects the emotional depth of Airto and Flora’s partnership.
Struck by Lightning — 1989 / 1990
Struck by Lightning captures the electricity and unpredictability that often define Airto’s playing. His percussion can change the character of a piece instantly, arriving like weather and reshaping the musical atmosphere. The album belongs to his late-1980s and early-1990s output, when he continued to explore contemporary settings while preserving his rhythmic individuality.
Killer Bees — 1993
Killer Bees marked a strong later-career statement, featuring Flora Purim and major collaborators connected to jazz and fusion circles. With contributions associated with musicians such as Herbie Hancock, Stanley Clarke, Chick Corea, Mark Egan, and Hiram Bullock, the album returned Airto to a high-profile leader setting. Its sound is energetic, contemporary, and rhythmically charged, reaffirming his ongoing creative relevance.
Fourth World — 1993 / 1995
Fourth World was both an ensemble and a concept, bringing together Airto, Flora Purim, José Neto, Gary Brown, and Jovino Santos Neto. The project extended Brazilian jazz into a global music language shaped by improvisation, electric textures, and cross-cultural percussion. Its importance lies in its refusal of narrow categories, presenting Brazilian-rooted music as open, borderless, and forward-looking.
Jump — 1995
Jump continued Airto’s 1990s activity as a leader, reflecting the decade’s growing interest in global fusion, contemporary grooves, and world music textures. The album shows him engaging with modern production environments while maintaining the rhythmic personality that had defined his career. It is a reminder that Airto remained creatively active rather than resting on his 1970s legacy.
Homeless — 2000
Released by Melt 2000, Homeless brought Airto into a more dance-oriented global fusion setting. The album features high-energy rhythms and contemporary textures, while also including the family dimension of vocals from Diana Moreira Booker. It demonstrates Airto’s willingness to engage with new audiences and rhythmic contexts while preserving the spiritual and percussive core of his music.
Revenge of the Killer Bees — 2000
Revenge of the Killer Bees revisits the energy of Killer Bees within a later global-fusion framework. The album shows Airto continuing to search for fresh rhythmic settings and contemporary sonic possibilities. Rather than functioning as a nostalgic sequel, it reinforces his lifelong habit of renewing his vocabulary through collaboration, groove, and exploration.
Life After That — 2003
Life After That is one of Airto’s strongest later-career albums, bringing together Brazilian jazz, Latin jazz, Afro-Brazilian rhythm, fusion, MPB, jazz-funk, and worldbeat elements. The recording feels mature, reflective, and expansive, shaped by decades of musical experience. It presents Airto as an elder statesman of global jazz who still plays with curiosity, warmth, and rhythmic authority.
The Boston Three Party — 2007
A collaboration with Chick Corea and Eddie Gomez, The Boston Three Party reconnects Airto with musicians central to post-bop and fusion history. The compact trio setting highlights his interactive abilities as an improviser, not only his colouristic gifts as a percussionist. The album is significant because it places him in a direct jazz conversation with longtime peers of extraordinary stature.
Ears to the Ground — 2008
Recorded with Danish pianist Jacob Anderskov, Ears to the Ground reflects Airto’s openness to younger international improvisers and more exploratory settings. The title perfectly captures his artistic method: listening closely to the earth, to rhythm, to space, and to the musicians around him. It is a thoughtful late-career collaboration that emphasizes sensitivity as much as virtuosity.
Live in Berkeley — 2012
This live album with Flora Purim documents the continued vitality of their long performance partnership. Decades after their first collaborations, Airto and Flora still project a sound rooted in Brazilian rhythm, vocal freedom, improvisation, and shared musical memory. The recording stands as a living archive of one of the most important partnerships in Brazilian jazz fusion.
Aluê — 2017
Aluê marked an important late-career return and included collaborators such as Diana Moreira Booker and José Neto. The album revisits elements of Airto’s early musical world while placing them in a contemporary setting, including a renewed version of the title piece associated with Seeds on the Ground. Its Latin Grammy nomination for Best Instrumental Album confirmed the continued relevance of Airto’s creative voice.
Eu Canto Assim — 2021
Eu Canto Assim highlights Airto’s identity as a vocalist and interpreter of Brazilian songs, an aspect of his artistry that reaches back to his childhood radio performances. While he is best known internationally as a percussionist, singing has always been part of his expressive language. The album offers a more intimate view of Airto, foregrounding voice, memory, and Brazilian musical character.
Airto & Flora: A Celebration — 60 Years: Sounds, Dreams & Other Stories — 2023
This multi-disc retrospective celebrates six decades of Airto and Flora Purim’s shared musical universe. It offers an expansive entry point into their Brazilian jazz, fusion, spiritual, and global music legacy. More than a compilation, it functions as a historical document of one of modern music’s great creative partnerships, tracing the evolution of their sound across generations.
Maracanós — 2026
Airto’s 2026 collaboration with pianist, composer, and producer Ricardo Bacelar, featuring Flora Purim, demonstrates that his creative journey remains active. With tracks such as “Pé no Chão,” “Mestre Novo da Guiné,” “Bumbo Meu Boi,” “Voo da Tarde,” and “Maracanós,” the album reconnects Airto with contemporary Brazilian music. It reaffirms the values that have shaped his career: percussion, ancestry, improvisation, collaboration, and cross-cultural imagination.
“Airto’s career forms a living bridge between Brazil, Afro-Caribbean rhythmic traditions, jazz fusion and the global music imagination.”
Awards, Nominations, and Achievements
Airto Moreira’s career has been recognized through formal awards, nominations, institutional honours, critics’ polls, and his participation in Grammy-winning ensembles.
1980 — Grammy Nomination: Touching You… Touching Me
Airto received a Grammy nomination for Best Latin Recording for Touching You… Touching Me at the 22nd Annual Grammy Awards. The Recording Academy lists him with one Grammy nomination in this category.
1991 — Grammy-Winning Ensemble: Mickey Hart’s Planet Drum
Airto contributed to Mickey Hart’s Planet Drum, a Grammy-winning world music project that brought together major percussionists from around the world, including Giovanni Hidalgo, Zakir Hussain, Babatunde Olatunji, and others.
1992 — Grammy-Winning Ensemble: Dizzy Gillespie’s United Nations Orchestra
Airto and Flora Purim also appeared with Dizzy Gillespie’s United Nations Orchestra, whose Live at the Royal Festival Hall was a Grammy-winning concert album.
2002 — Order of Rio Branco, Brazil
Brazil honoured Airto Moreira and Flora Purim with the Order of Rio Branco for cultural merit, recognizing their contributions to Brazil’s international cultural presence.
2018 — Latin Grammy Nomination: Aluê
Airto’s Aluê was nominated for Best Instrumental Album at the 19th Annual Latin Grammy Awards. The Latin Recording Academy lists Airto with one Latin Grammy nomination for this project.
1973 onward — DownBeat Poll Recognition
Airto’s impact on jazz percussion was so significant that DownBeat added a percussion category to its readers’ and critics’ polls, a category he has won more than twenty times since 1973.
2026 — NEA Jazz Master
In 2026, Airto Moreira was named an NEA Jazz Master, one of the highest honours in American jazz. The National Endowment for the Arts identifies him as a drummer, percussionist, composer, and educator, recognizing the breadth of his contribution to jazz history.
The Enduring Legacy of Airto Moreira
Airto Moreira’s legacy is not confined to a list of recordings, prestigious collaborations, or awards. His true achievement is that he changed the sound of jazz. He opened a door through which Brazilian percussion, Afro-diasporic rhythm, environmental sound, vocal expression, and spiritual energy could enter modern improvisation as equal partners.
He helped Miles Davis’s electric music become more expansive and mysterious. He helped Return to Forever become more lyrical and Brazilian. He helped Weather Report’s early sound world become more open to global colour. He helped CTI-era fusion find a warmer, earthier rhythmic identity. He helped Flora Purim create one of the most distinctive Brazilian jazz vocal universes of the last half-century. He helped later generations understand that percussion could be melodic, structural, atmospheric, theatrical, and sacred.
For Brazilian music enthusiasts, Airto is a guardian of rhythm who never allowed tradition to become static. For Afro-Caribbean and Latin jazz listeners, he is a crucial figure in the wider music of the African diaspora in the Americas. For jazz audiences, he is one of the musicians who made the music larger — geographically, rhythmically, spiritually, and imaginatively.
His 2026 recognition as an NEA Jazz Master feels not like a closing chapter, but like a public acknowledgment of what musicians and listeners have known for decades: Airto Moreira is one of the great architects of global jazz sound.
As recent projects such as Aluê, the Airto and Flora retrospective, and Maracanós suggest, his artistic path remains active and open. At this stage of his life, future work may come through new recordings, archival releases, intergenerational collaborations, educational contributions, or the continued rediscovery of his vast catalogue. Whatever form it takes, Airto’s music will continue to invite listeners into a world where rhythm breathes, sings, remembers, and transforms.
To enter Airto Moreira’s discography is to enter one of the richest cross-cultural journeys in modern music — a journey from southern Brazil to New York, from samba to electric jazz, from ritual percussion to global fusion, from Miles Davis to Flora Purim, from the earth to the cosmos, always guided by the unmistakable pulse of a master.
References
All About Jazz. “Maracanós — Airto Moreira.” All About Jazz, 2026.
https://www.allaboutjazz.com/album/maracanos-airto-moreira
AllMusic. “Airto Moreira Biography, Songs, & Albums.” AllMusic.
https://www.allmusic.com/artist/airto-moreira-mn0000609992
AllMusic. “Life After That — Airto Moreira.” AllMusic.
https://www.allmusic.com/album/life-after-that-mw0000317988
Grammy Awards. “Airto Moreira.” The Recording Academy.
https://www.grammy.com/artists/airto-moreira/5531/
Latin Grammy Awards. “Airto Moreira.” The Latin Recording Academy.
https://www.latingrammy.com/artists/airto-moreira/34206-01
Los Angeles Philharmonic. “Airto Moreira.” LA Phil Artist Biography.
https://www.laphil.com/musicdb/artists/3721/airto-moreira
National Endowment for the Arts. “Airto Moreira.” NEA Jazz Masters.
https://www.arts.gov/honors/jazz/airto-moreira
Wikipedia contributors. “Airto Moreira.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Airto_Moreira
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Harvey AVERNE
Jun 1, 2019 at 9:37 pm
I am very pleased to finally have such a nice Wikipedia page at the age of 82. I am not sure who did this for me because I would like to thank them for their accuracy and all the work they put into these pages.