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Terry Pearce Remembers The Golden Era of Dance Music In NYC
Panama’s Favorite Mambero, Terry Pearce, Remembers The Golden Era of Dance Music In New York City
ROSELAND: Where Cuban Rhythms once went toe to toe with Ballroom Jazz
I first set foot inside the ROSELAND BALLROOM dance hall in 1978, lured by a long forgotten tribute to Cuban Music legend Miguelito Valdés. No one seems to remember this event, but to me it was an unforgettable night, and I could not get over how huge the place was, especially the dance floor. I knew little of its long history in regards to New York style Latin American music. It was, after all, the traditional gathering place for so many senior citizens whose sole purpose was to relive the good old days (at least it was that way until 1977). Directly adjacent to Roseland was Local 802 of the Musicians Union, and since I was always looking for work back then through the union, I would often see the old timers waiting on line, dressed to kill, ready to enter into their own private dance heaven. Since I came out of the rock and roll era, it seemed totally the opposite of what my own generation would have considered a night out. Nonetheless, I was curious, and it may have been because the place reminded me so much of all those film noir flicks that I had grown up watching on television or in the movies.
Initially, Roseland conjured up images of the Cotton Club and Connie’s Inn up in Harlem – which were popular venues for white audiences – or even of “Rick’s Café Américain” in the film “Casablanca”, the upscale nightclub and gambling den that attracted such a mixed clientéle: Vichy French, Italian, and Nazi officials; political exiles desperately seeking to reach America. Such was the power of Hollywood to implant certain images in our subconscious. Once inside Dance City (that was another name they had for it), I realized that the old place had nothing to do with the nightclubs that had been depicted in so many of those Hollywood films. Roseland was, after all, an elegant ballroom right smack in the middle of midtown Manhattan, and not some juke joint (before 1953 and even for some years thereafter, most bars and nightclubs used a jukebox or live bands). I recalled that only a decade before, I too had stood in such lines, outside venues like the Brooklyn Paramount, Academy of Music and the Brooklyn Fox, and even Harlem’s legendary Apollo Theatre – but not to dance in them – those theaters were the domain of the doowop kings (and queens), showcases for the great vocal R&B groups that thrilled my generation with their gospel tinged harmonies. I’m referring to the great rock ‘n’ roll soirées presented by Allan Freed and Murray The K. But even that phenomenon had its precedent.
SWING JAZZ: A Chronology of The American Dance Floor
It is fabled that the first “nightclub” in the United States opened in 1912 in New Orleans (why would we think otherwise?). Aptly called “The Cave”, because it was located in the basement of the Roosevelt Hotel. Prior to that, from about 1900 to 1920, working class Americans would gather in honky tonks or juke joints and dance to the riffs of a lone piano player, or, they would dance to the sounds of small territory bands as their music vibrated from jukeboxes. Territory bands were dance bands that crisscrossed specific regions of the United States, playing one-nighters, 6 or 7 nights a week at venues like the VFW Hall, Elks Club, Lions Club and hotel ballrooms. These bands typically had 8 to 12 musicians. During Prohibition the nightclubs went underground as illegal bars, known as speakeasies. The emerging new style of jazz actually dated back to that epoch, when the various black communities, dancing to the contemporary sound of their time, discovered the charleston and the lindy hop. The charleston was a dance named for the city of Charleston, South Carolina and its rhythm was popularized in mainstream dance music by a 1923 tune called “The Charleston”, written by the Afro-American composer and pianist James P. Johnson. As far as the lindy is concerned, legend has it that a local dance enthusiast named “Shorty” was watching some of the dancing couples at a local club when a newspaper reporter asked him what kind of dance they were doing. The story goes on to say that there was a newspaper sitting on the bench next to Shorty with an article about Lindbergh’s historic flight to Paris. Since the title of the article read, “Lindy Hops The Atlantic,” Shorty simply replied: “Lindy Hop”. Although no one has ever corroborated this tale, the name stuck, and that’s how the dance got its name.
But as fate would have it, on March 26, 1926, an event took place in New York City that would ultimately change the history of jazz. The Savoy Ballroom, located between 140th and 141st Streets on Lenox Avenue opened its doors, and that changed everything. The music played at the Savoy on opening night was largely swing jazz, and because of its infectious rhythm, the venue enjoyed immediate success. It boasted a block-long dance floor and a raised double bandstand. It was owned by Moe Gale, a Jewish businessman and managed by an Afro-American by the name of Charles Buchanan.
The operative word at the Savoy may have been “swing”, but the first word that comes to my mind is “big”. The ambience was further stimulated by the presence of fantastic dancers. All of the great black jazz bands played there at one time or another. Ultimately, it attracted some of the best dancers from the greater New York area, both black and white. When Repeal kicked in during February of 1933, the nightclub scene was once again revived. New York’s Stork Club, El Morocco and the Copacabana were all nightclubs that featured live big bands, dedicated exclusively to playing for a dancing crowd. But the Savoy was by far the most popular of these clubs. To its credit, the ballroom participated in the 1939 World’s Fair, presenting “The Evolution of Negro Dance”, and it was immortalized in song by the classic 1934 tune “Stompin’ At The Savoy” (performed by just about everyone and their grandmother). The head bouncer at the ballroom was Herbert White, who formed a lindy hop dance troupe called “Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers”. The “Hoppers” were showcased in such Hollywood films as “A Day at the Races”, “Hellzapoppin”, “Sugar Hill Masquerade” and “Killer Diller”. This group formed the crème de la crème of the Savoy. They were the top dancers during the swing era. With Whitey’s entrepreneurial skills, these Harlem youngsters were catapulted into world recognition through both live performance and film. Their swing dance innovations had permanent impact on the social dance styles of the United States, Europe, Australia, and even Latin America and parts of Africa. Early mambo dancers in Mexico City, (pre-Palladium era) have stated that both the lindy and the jitterbug influenced much of their choreography. Certain moves which they added to the basic steps taken from the Cuban son and danzón enhanced those dance forms.
Savoy, the home of sweet romance,
Savoy, it wins you with a glance,
Savoy, gives happy feet a chance to dance.
And, almost as if on cue, a variant of the lindy hop was introduced by bandleader Cab Calloway, who tagged it the jitterbug (this was actually the title of a catchy six beat tune which Cab had recorded in 1934). It was never meant to be the moniker for a dance form, it just happened that way. History certainly does have a way of repeating itself, doesn’t it? When mainstream America (read – white folks) discovered these dances, it got the snowball rolling. Subsequently every ethnic community in the United States embraced the popular black dances, as well as tap and jazz. Clarinetist Benny Goodman led the big parade, and soon the native Chicagoan became the leader of the so-called swing era. Why, there was even something called country swing. Can you imagine?
TRANSCULTURATION & THE RIP-OFF: The New Orleans, Hollywood, Paris and New York Connection
Around the same time as Calloway’s tune was hitting the nightclubs of Harlem, a Jewish dancer by the name of Dean Collins was learning to dance like a black man. Collins grew up in Newark, New Jersey and by the age of 13 he was already dancing at the Savoy. In 1935, he was named “Dancer of the Year” by The New Yorker. He arrived in Hollywood in 1938 and between 1941 and 1960 had danced in, or helped choreograph over 100 movies which provided at least a 30 second clip of some of California’s best white dancers performing lindy hop, jitterbug, lindy and swing. Throughout the 1940’s these terms were used interchangeably by the news media to describe the same style of dancing taking place on the streets, in the night clubs, in contests, and in the movies. In 1938 Donald Grant, president of the Dance Teachers’ Business Association, stated that swing music was “a degenerate form of jazz, whose devotees were the unfortunate victims of economic instability”. Shaw ’nuff.
During the Second World War, swing jazz, and particularly the dance known as the jitterbug were banned in occupied France by the Nazis, due to their decadent American influences. This music literally went underground, hidden in basement dance clubs called discothèques where young French men and women danced to hot jazz played by a DJ on a single turntable whenever a jukebox was not available. So-called “latin” music was also banned, but to a lesser extent. For some reason, it did not classify as degenerate art, a term the Nazis had coined to rid Germany of any African based music. It became a catch-all phrase that included music with any link to jews, communists, jazz, and anything else thought to be dangerous to the master race.
Meanwhile, back in the USA, dance instructors were getting hip to the fact that the lively and boisterous jitterbug could no longer be ignored. Its fun-filled romp could be refined to suit a crowded dance floor. The two main dance schools at the time were the New York Society of Teachers and the Arthur Murray Studios, and they did not formally begin documenting or teaching the African-based dances until the early 1940’s. The “established” dance community was more interested in teaching the old European-based dances, such as the quickstep and the waltz, with an occasional fox-trot and peabody thrown in. Later, they incorporated such Latin American and Spanish dances as the tango, pasodoble, samba, merengue, mambo and cha cha chá, many of which were also African-based, only they didn’t see it that way. Arthur Murray and his associates looked at what was being danced in the urban centers and directed his teachers to teach what was “popular” in their respective cities. As a result of this profiling, the Arthur Murray Studios taught different styles of swing in each city, according to the demographics. Lauré Haile, a swing dancer and competitor, documented what she saw being danced by the white communities in America.
“Part 2 – Decline and Remission: 1945 -1983” is an informative essay posted by the Kansas City Lindy Hop Society. The aforementioned Dean Collins, along with Lenny Smith and Lou Southern led the action in the night clubs and competitions throughout southern California. Haile began teaching for Arthur Murray in 1945 and gave the new style the name of “Western Swing”. Collins taught Arthur Murray’s teachers in Hollywood and San Francisco in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s.
In 1953 Paris, at the “Whisky À Go Go” nightclub (founded in 1947), a Belgian Polish-Jew by the name of Régine Zylberberg – better known as “Régine, Queen of the Night” – laid down a dance-floor, suspended coloured lights and replaced the juke-box with two turntables which she operated herself so there would be no breaks between the music. This is what set into place the standard elements of the modern discotheque-style nightclub.
Immediately following the Second World War, a nationwide economic boom was created. New York emerged as the leading city of the world, with Wall Street leading America’s ascendancy. Anglo soldiers and sailors returning from Europe and the Pacific continued to dance in and around their military bases, doing the jitterbug to country and western music in small town bars, well into the 50’s. Meanwhile, the legendary Savoy Ballroom finally closed its doors in 1958, and shortly after the building in which it was housed was demolished. During the 60’s New Yorkers suffered race riots, gang wars and a certain amount of population decline. The demographics of an entire neighborhood would suddenly change. The transition away from an industrial base toward a service economy picked up speed. Americans who traveled stayed at modern motel chains like Holiday Inn and TraveLodge, which provided air-conditioning, swimming pools, restaurants, color TV, direct-dial phones and, above all, consistency.
The large shipbuilding and garment industries declined sharply, ports converted to container ships, costing many traditional jobs among longshoremen and many large corporations moved their headquarters to the suburbs, or to distant cities. There was still enormous growth in services; especially finance, education, medicine, tourism, communications and law. New York remained the largest city, and the largest metropolitan area in the United States, and continued as its largest financial, commercial, information, and cultural center. Despite all the hardships, the city’s vibrant music scene was still very much at the heart of it all, and people of all nationalities still went out dancing.
In the early 1960’s, Annabel’s, a members-only discothèque nightclub opened in Berkeley Square, London. In 1962, the Peppermint Lounge became the popular night spot here in New York City for guys like me. This was the spot where go-go dancing originated. Go-Go Dancers were dancers who were employed to entertain crowds during the early 1960’s at such venues as the Peppermint Lounge. Female dancers began to get up on tables and dance the twist. Joey Dee and The Starlighters were undeniably the stars of a movie titled “Hey Let’s twist”, which put that club on the map. Simultaneously, and as if by design, the dance scene in most urban centers was also beginning to change, but the folks at Roseland were not buying into it – at least not yet.
AMERICA’S HIT PARADE: Land of a Thousand Dances
By 1960, seventy million children from the post-war baby boom had become teenagers and young adults. The new generation was no longer content with just being mirror images of their parents, they wanted their own image. Across the country changes took place that affected education, values, lifestyles, laws, and entertainment. Many of the revolutionary concepts in music which began in the sixties are continuing to this day. But it was also a time for fads, and new dance fads appeared almost every week. The majority of them were commercialized versions of new steps created by Afro-American dancers who frequented the clubs and discothèques in cities like New York, Philadelphia and Detroit. Dancemanias swept the country (and the world for that matter) during this fertile period. The new dances had names like the Madison, Swim, Mashed Potatoes, Twist, Frug Watusi, Shake, Hitchhike, Pony, Dog and Chicken. The one thing that they all had in common was that they were not a couple dance, and each partner could do their own thing, separately. It seemed that “touch dancing” was on the verge of disappearing. For a brief time during the beginning of the decade a Cuban rhythm known as Pachanga (actually a variant of the son montuno) became popular among the youth. Percussionist Ray Barretto recorded a tune called “El Watusi” in 1962. It was a fluke, but it soared to the top of the charts (hitting the Billboard playlists in April of ’63), catching the ear of many non-hispanics. Other “latin” tinged music forms crossed over and made it into the charts as well, and before long young Hispanic-Americans began to catch the “bug” for latin music as well.
Meanwhile, the “older” generation was still dancing up a storm, enamored with mambo, bolero and tango. In fact, any type of couple dancing that would bring them a bit of intimacy was embraced (so to speak), and for a while it looked as if the generation gap was closing. By 1965 I was totally hooked on Cuban dance music, aka “latin” music. But it would be another ten years before I had my taste of a bona fide ballroom. My generation preferred rough and tumble bars and taverns to nightclubs, and the mainstream “latin” youth was attracted to large large marathon dances at such venues as the Manhattan Center and the Hunts Point Palace. The now legendary Palladium Ballroom would close its doors in 1966, and I was only privileged to have gone there during the last two years of its existence. I remember that I didn’t dance that much in the Palladium (except when I was trying to pick up a girl) because my main focus was on the bandstand and the musicians who played their hot Cuban music. Nightclubs, or rather discothèques as they were already being tagged by then, did not grab my attention until the mid 1970’s.
As the seventies rolled around, street activists and minority groups like the Black Panthers and Young Lords organized rent strikes and garbage offensives, demanding city services for poor areas. “Power to the People” was the phrase most often heard in the streets, and by the middle of the decade the city had gained a reputation as a crime-ridden asphalt jungle, a relic of history. In 1975, the city government avoided bankruptcy only through a federal loan and debt restructuring by the Municipal Assistance Corporation and they were also forced to accept increased financial scrutiny from the state capital. In 1977, the city was struck by twin catastrophes; the Great Blackout and Son of Sam serial killings.
And Roseland? The old ballroom continued to attract a much older, mature crowd, mostly non-hispanic, whose only joy was to step out with the “latin” dances. Many were regulars, who had been going there since the early forties, when their hearts were young and their libidos were lively. And they each had a competitive spirit to them too. From 1930 up until 1984 The Harvest Moon Ball Dance Championships were held every year at Madison Square Garden in New York City. The ball was supposedly for “amateurs” only. It was usually held on a Tuesday or Wednesday in August or September and was sponsored by the Daily News in New York.
But wait, it seems that I am getting ahead of myself. I do believe that we were talking about the early history of dance, correct? So, hold that thought for a moment, while I rewind the tape. Let’s take it back, say about fifty years or so.
1927: Dance Fever Hits New York City
The first unofficial dance contest was held at the Central Park Mall in 1927, but to the surprise of the organizers over 75,000 people showed up to watch the contest, all contests in the future were to be postponed in the name of public safety until Madison Square Garden could be obtained. They tried again in 1934 and this time the contest was officially shut down by City Hall. The first official start date was in 1935 at Madison Square Garden in New York. In 1938, the Harvest Moon Ball included a lindy hop and jitterbug competition for the first time. It was captured on film and presented in the Paramount, Pathe, and Universal movie newsreels between 1938 and 1951.
Starting in August, preliminaries would be run in many different clubs and ballrooms throughout the city. Roseland was the main venue. Preliminaries had a total of three judges, and the finals had five. There were six divisions that you could enter, some years would offer different dance divisions such as conga, lindy hop, rhumba, jitterbug, jitterbug-jive, jive, foxtrot, rock and roll, tango, collegiate shag, servicemen’s division, Viennese waltz and eventually the mambo, cha cha chá and even the hustle. At the end of the contest the judges would pick an “All Around Champion” and award him/her additional prizes.
Famed columnist Ed Sullivan was the emcee for most of the early contests. The popularity of the event grew (there would be other such balls in Chicago and Los Angeles). This event was to become the most famous dance contest in the world and would last for many years. The official song of the contest was “Shine On, Harvest Moon.” The music was supplied by first class musicians such as Artie Shaw, Nan Rodrigo, Machito, Benny Goodman and of course the house band, led by Puerto Rican trumpeter Ramón Argüeso, with its vocalist Raúl Azpiazu and the stellar pianist from Panama, Terry Pearce. The event would outlast any other of its type, until 1980. From 1980 on it was sponsored by individuals who were past winners. The last Harvest Moon Ball took place in 1984. I actually had the pleasure of singing with the Argüeso band, albeit under the direction of Pearce, whom I recall to be a very humble and modest person. Years went by and I recently caught up with him at the Allegria Hotel in Long Beach, NY, where at the age of 77, he still cuts loose on white baby grand in the hotel lounge, ignored by some while astounding others.
DÉJÀ VU: Recollections of a Panamanian Music Master
Pianist Terry Pearce, who was a regular at Roseland, fondly recalled his years with Argüeso.
TERRY: I played at Roseland from 1974 until 1988, first with the Argüeso Orchestra and then with my own band. We worked on a daily basis, as well as playing for special events such as The Harvest Moon Ball. Due to our longevity there, we landed a cameo appearance in the movie “Roseland”. When Argüeso died in 1996, I took over the direction of the band. It was trimmed down somewhat, to eight pieces, and that’s when the ballroom began billing us as the Terry Pearce Orchestra. We stayed there until 2001. We would play all the popular latin dances of the day, plus our old swing repertoire as well.
By way of introduction, I will simply say that Pearce was born on August 10th, 1933 in the city of Colón, Republic of Panama. His mother, Savina, encouraged him to study music early on, so that by the time Terry was twelve years old, he was already playing with various local conjuntos that specialized in popular Cuban music. During our recent get-together, I inquired as to his early influences in popular dance forms.
CHICO: Terry baby, lay it on me man, I want to know all about those early jams with the homies back in Panama. Were these groups patterned after the sextetos in Cuba?
TERRY: Very much so. Chico, we didn’t even have a bass player, we used a marímbula at first and we also worked with a guitarist. On percussion we usually had a bongó, then we added tumbadoras and trumpets. We played it bien típico, as they say here in New York, mostly at private parties and during the yearly carnavales, which always took place in February. At one point I remember playing alonside “el viejo” Edgehill, who was an extraordinary bassist, just like his son Guillermo is today. Later, I was recruited to play with the number one band in Colón, a seventeen piece mega band which was led by alto saxophonist Armando Boza. I was only seventeen years old at the time. A very young Mauricio Smith was also in that band, as was trumpeter Víctor “Vitín” Paz, who was already a seasoned jazzman. Both names would become legendary in New York latin jazz circles, through their association with Machito and Tito Rodríguez.
CHICO: Do you remember what year that was?
TERRY: That was in 1951. I was still attending Abel Bravo High School at the time, but I would travel with Armando’s band throughout the seven provinces of Panama, particularly in the western part of the country, in the province of Chiriquí and in the city of Las Tablas, which is in the province of Los Santos, plus in the various islands that were part of the republic, the most famous being Bocas Del Toro, which was originally a successful fishing community that was later recognized as a major asset to the archipelago of islands, mainly as a tourist spot. We played all over the country, mostly in hotels, for tourists and locals alike. It was a heck of an experience for me.
I remember that in 1955 we traveled to Ecuador to perform at the French-owned Bagatelle Hotel in Quito. We played there for six months, mostly Cuban music but also Panamanian cumbias. Beny Moré was a very popular recording artist at the time, and we used to play a lot of his music. I accompanied him twice, on both occassions during Carnaval. In Colón, Armando’s band backed him up, and another time it was with trumpeter Juan Santamaría in Panama City. I listened a lot to his piano player “Peruchín” Justiz, whose style I loved.
CHICO: I know from reading John Radanovich’s book that Beny went to Panama with Pérez Prado for the first time during carnival time in 1949. He also performed there in 1955 and in 1958 with twelve musicians from his band, although his main pianist “Cabrerita” was not on those two trips. I think he was replaced by either Felipe Llanes or Peruchín. This was 1955, when he hit Max Pérez in Venezuela with an iron rod and cracked his skull.
TERRY: Yes, but I vaguely remember Cabrerita accompanying Beny on one of those trips. Peruchín was already living in Panama at the time. In my opinion he was one of the greatest pianists in the history of Cuban music, and was instrumental in shifting the role of the piano into a more rhythmic role. They say he practically invented the guajeo. Peruchín was also a great arranger, much hipper than Cabrerita, and when he returned to Cuba he wrote some beautiful charts for the famed Orquesta Riverside, as well as being their regular pianist. As an arranger he was equalled only by Bebo Valdés, Chico O’farrill, René Hernández and Obdulio Morales. He would later join Beny’s big band, contributing some arrangements as well. While in Cuba he also found time to record with Chico O’Farrill, Julio Gutierrez and Cachao in some of their legendary descarga sessions, while doing a few gigs with his own quintet. He can also be heard on a few albums by Eusebio Antobal, recorded around the same time. He passed away on December 24, 1977. All of the musicians in Armandos’ band were keenly aware of everything coming out of Cuba. In fact, our specialty was always Cuban music.
CHICO: Did you also play traditional Panamanian music as well?
TERRY: Yes, especially in Los Santos, which is famous for its carnivals, the Festival Nacional de la Pollera (National Festival of the Pollera), and the Festival of the Patron Santa Librada, plus the Festival Nacional de la Mejorana in Guararé. The province of Herrera is also important in Panamanian folklore because it is believed to be the birth place of the Pollera, the traditional Panamanian dress.
CHICO: Yes, I myself have been quite impressed by this type of dress, especially the Pollera de gala Santeña, with its beautiful design. I believe it is the most used in Panama. Your country has some really beautiful traditions, not unlike the Spanish-speaking Caribbean. I suppose the proximity to that region gives Panama an edge over most Central and South American countries. Also, its bond to the United States is undeniable, particularly within the field of music. The US-Panama cultural interchange is quite obvious, and your country does have a long history in jazz. By the 1940’s the port of Colón boasted at least ten local jazz orchestras. Legends of jazz in Panama have included pianist and composer Víctor Boa, bassist Clarence Martin, singer Barbara Wilson, Drummer Billy Cobham, flautist Mauricio Smith, saxophonist Carlos Garnett and french horn player John “Rubberlegs” McKindo. It is a musical legacy that has recently been reinvigorated by pianist Danilo Pérez, who organized the first Panamanian Jazz Festival in January 2003.
TERRY: You are quite right, jazz has always been heard in Panama, and we owe that to the countless black laborers who helped build the canal zone. They came from the states and from the British West Indies by the tens of thousands, in the effort to improve the isthmus transportation system, but many came to work on the banana plantations as well. By 1910, the Panama Canal Company had employed more than 50,000 workers, three-quarters of whom were black Caribbeans. We formed the nucleus of a community separated from the larger society by race, language, religion, and culture. Many of us who migrated to the US would ultimately find ourselves in a sort of duality, what with surnames names like Smith and Terry (laughter).
CHICO: Which brings us to how Terry Pearce got to play “latin” dance music in the land of skyscrapers. Just how did you first make it to the states?
TERRY: In 1960 I left Armando Boza’s big band and started to work the cruise ship circuit, which was very lucrative at the time. American tourists on board these liners danced to their heart’s content, and we supplied them with the beat. By we, I mean the Evangelina Quartet, that’s what we were known as. We did various tours throughout the West Indies, until 1962, when I finally got my visa and told them I was flying north. Actually, I took a steamboat out of Miami and then I hopped a train up north.
CHICO: How did it feel when you set foot on American soil?
TERRY: It felt great! I arrived at Penn Station in New York on January 20th, 1962. I will never forget that date.
CHICO: With whom did you debut here in New York?
TERRY: The first guy to give me a break was trumpeter Bobby Woodland. He helped me to get my musician’s card, so that I could work the union halls and hotel circuit. I worked every Friday with him at the summer resorts in upstate NY. The Raleigh, the Pines and the Emerson immediately come to mind, but there were others. Because everybody had to have a “latin” name, he was billed as Bobby Madera. His music was strictly for dancing, and since I was no stranger to Afro-Cuban rhythms I fell right in with the crowd.
CHICO: Terry, are you saying that you sort of “got comfortable” with that groove?
TERRY: No, not really, because I wanted to play everything. I got my opportunity to play some swing jazz in ’62 when trumpeter Doc Cheatham hired me to play at Jack Silverman’s International Cabaret, downstairs on Broadway and 52nd St., in downtown Manhattan. I worked on and off with Cheatham and Woodland from ’62 until ’69. Birdland was another place where I found steady work, with drummer Willie Bobo. I would play with Cheatham at Silverman’s from Tuesday until Sunday, and then with Willie on Monday nights. I was gigging seven nights a week back then. Cheatham was always taking me with him over to the Palladium, where he was a regular. All the guys in Machito’s band respected and admired him.
CHICO: Is there anyone else that we should know about?
TERRY: Well, I have to say that it was a real pleasure to have substituted on more than one occasion for the great René Hernández at the Palladium and the St. George Hotel, with the Machito Orchestra, when the maestro was sick. In ’69 I made a special trip down to Miami, to perform at the Eden Roc Hotel with singer Chubby Checker, who was flying high with his “Limbo Rock”. Mauricio Smith was the musical director and he got me that gig. With Chubby we also did the President Hotel in Atlantic City and also RDA, a private club in Philadelphia. This was during a time when new dances were being made up every week, and Chubby was on top of his game. All in all, the sixties were really good to me.
CHICO: Dance music certainly has kept you busy my man. But it wasn’t always just about dance floor, right?
TERRY: No, of course not. I had my fling with serious music too. After the gigs with Chubby, Mauricio and I got together again and played for a couple of years at the Ali Baba East in Manhattan and the Carlton Terrace in Queens. We played mostly jazz, with a hint of “latin” now and then. I played the hammond organ back then, and singer Nell Carter used to come by the Ali Baba after her Broadway gig and “jam” with us. Man, she loved that band. We made that groove work for us until around 1974. But the dance circuit was where the steady work was. I returned to the Catskills briefly with Billy Ford and the Thunderbirds and then worked with Mauricio at The Rainbow Room. The great Mexican bassist Víctor Venegas was on that gig.
CHICO: How about the charanga bands, did you play with any of them?
TERRY: Well, Frank Mercado was a well known singer at that time and he hooked me up with José Fajardo’s charanga band on a few gigs. Another charanguero was Lou Perez, with whom I worked on occasion at the Hotel Neville. The charanga style was very big at the time. There was plenty of work around then and people were always willing to go out dancing. But the hardest working bandleader by far had to be Argüeso. While Ramón was alive, I was always assured of steady work at Roseland.
VAYA MEANS GO!: The Latins Take Manhattan
In 1952, Roseland was still a great place to go for classic American dance music, as was the old Arcadia Dance Hall, but for the hip young crowd there was nothing that could compete with the Palladium Ballroom, where dancing on 2 and in clave was paramount. It was the place, where the wild and hot Cuban rhythms ruled the dance floor. It was at this location that Pérez Prado’s crazy “Mambo No. 5” became the rage, earning el mambo the title of king of all dances. The once re-named Alma Dance Studio was now the official home of the mambo. Sure, there were other clubs throughout the city, such as the Caborojeño, Broadway Casino, El Cubanacan, Park Palace, Park Plaza, Gloria Palace and Havana-Madrid in Manhattan, and the Tropicana, Tropicola, Hunts Point Palace, La Campana, and Tropicoro in the Bronx, but nothing compared to the popularity of the Palladium. A mere stone’s throw from Roseland and Birdland, it was at the center of the urban mecca. At the height of its popularity, the club attracted an array of Hollywood and Broadway stars and personalities. Every Wednesday night there would be free dance lessons by instructors such as Killer Joe Piro and Carmen Marie Padilla. The Palladium would offer mass dance lessons for the huge crowds, proclaiming itself the “temple of mambo” and Hollywood inevitably capitalized on the craze. Piro can be seen dancing the mambo to the music of Tito Rodríguez in the 1950 Universal short subject, “Mambo Madness.” Much has been said and written about this music and about this epoch, and particularly about the venue (some of it erroneously), so I am not going to go into a whole lot of detail about it. Suffice to say that the late sixties and early seventies were a time of radical change, and that dance music would soon become a casualty of war. The proverbial shit would hit the fan on May 1st, 1966, when the Palladium would shut its doors forever.
Soon, there would be new kid on the block, a contender, a new dance and style that in ’66 was still in its infancy. It was mambo’s own first cousin – “salsa” – soon to be crowned the queen of all rhythms. I asked Terry about this crazy period in time, not only in relation to his own career, but his impression in general of the post-mambo dance scene in New York.
CHICO: Terry, what do you remember about the seventies, outside of the Roseland environment?
TERRY: Well, I know that there were still a few dance clubs competing around back then, such as the Ipanema, Corso and Casablanca, but the whole atmosphere had already started to change by 1975. Each club had its own crowd. Discothèques replaced the old ballrooms and disco dancing became the new dance craze. Studio 54, which opened in ’77, was a very popular discothèque. It was originally a Broadway theater, then a radio station and finally a television station. It was right behind Roseland, and eventually it took a lot of business away from us. The revolting idea that live musicians were not longer needed was totally unheard of until the disco era. During the 80’s deejays were cheap, and pre-recorded music was easy enough to put through a sound system, thus making it sound like a real band was in the room. This really hurt musicians, not just latin musicians, but musicians in general. When I started with Argüeso at Roseland, we worked six nights a week. Then it was five, then four, then three and by the time it was all over, we had been reduced to just playing on Sundays. Maybe it was the clientele, I just don’t know.
CHICO: You may be right about that Terry. In the beginning, Roseland had a “whites only” policy and it was billed as the “home of refined dancing”. Even during its peak years it was somewhat segregated, unlike the Palladium, which had a healthy mix of cultures and races. The thing that really made Roseland famous was the big bands that played there, such as Sam Lanin and his Ipana Troubadours, Vincent López, Harry James, Louis Armstrong, Tommy Dorsey and Glenn Miller, and its star-studded ceiling and innovative dance contests. But segregation and racism cannot flourish where there is love. Music was the element that brought people together, and eventually black dances such as the jitterbug were heard at Roseland. The appearance by the Count Basie Orchestra was a breakthrough in the all-white atmosphere of the club. It just had to change.
The original owner was Louis Brecker, and when he sold the building in 1981, the new owners began to scheduled “disco nights”, giving the boot to the “latin” crowd and ushering in a period when Roseland was considered a dangerous place to be and a neighborhood menace. Sundays were maintained for the older mature crowd and subsequently it became a place where senior citizens could go and re-live their heydey. Young “latinos” stopped going altogether. Disco music had killed the “latin” scene, perhaps unwillingly. The Sunday crowd was aristocratic, somewhat arrogant. By the time I started playing with your band there, it had turned into a nursing home. I felt like I was in a time warp. My only consolation was that I was playing alongside such stellar players as yourself, Frankie Colón, Gene Jefferson, Edy González and Richard Vitale.
TERRY: Those were good times for me, despite the deminished crowd. I know that they will never, ever come back.
CHICO: In 1974 Brecker was quoted in the New York Times as saying: “Cheek-to-cheek dancing, that’s what this place is all about.” But that too would soon change, when a fellow by the name of Phil Peters became the first latin music promoter to rent the ballroom for his own personal events, catering to the younger crowd. Among his promotions was the Women’s Liberation Dance, which was quite succesfull. Peters had an “exclusive” contract with Brecker, that stated he would be the “only” latin promoter to throw dances there, and that eventually led to that great bash I spoke of before, the one dedicated to Miguelito Valdés. That was the one time that I actually saw a rainbow of people at Roseland, black, brown and beige, all hanging with the anglos. The Africans and the Asians would join in later, much later.
TRY THE IMPOSSIBLE: New Age Fusion and Confusion
Despite the turmoil that was taking place,1977 was a great year for dance music, and for music of all types. My generation bore witness to the the birth and rise of funk, disco, art rock, hard rock, progressive rock, glam rock, punk rock, jazz rock fusion, latin rock, chamber jazz, reggae, heavy metal and hip hop. Nueva cancion, cumbia and merengue were taking hold in Mexico, Spain and Latin America. But in New York City, salsa was still supreme. Merengue was running a close second place.
’77 was also the year that a film by the same name was released. “Roseland” was directed by James Ivory and produced by Ismael Merchant. The film never really spoke to me, as it dealt with the waltz, the hustle and the peabody. It was an amalgam of three short stories where the protagonists were all trying to find the right dance partner, and I personally did not relate to any of it. Perhaps, if they had also shown me a bit of the Cuban mambo, then maybe I, along with ten thousand other young hispanics, would have been attracted. The episodic storyline is unified by an unending flow of vintage hit songs. The most effective vignette involves cleaning lady Skala, whose minimum-wage job supports her weekly ballroom fests. A similar technique had been used four years earlier by director Leon Gast in “Our Latin Thing”, a low budget musical documentary that dealt with the urban (and some would argue ghetto) lifestyle of New York’s “latinos” during the 70’s. The main dance scenes were filmed at Roseland’s nemesis, the Cheetah, on August 26, 1971 and throughout New York City’s hispanic neighborhoods. In July of 1972, the first few images flickered on the screen at the movie’s premiere in New York’s Line 2 cinema. Gast, who had been born in Jersey City, and was not a stranger to urban street life, brilliantly articulated the movie’s mood and sucked in its young audience. From a Spanish Harlem rooftop, an hispanic looking boy looked down on the street below as an Afro-Cuban rumba rhythm played in the background. Down at the street level, the young boy kicked an empty can around, while an electric piano began to introduce a son montuno riff, bringing the scene to life. That montuno was Ray Barretto’s “Cocinando”, as Cuban a tune as you can get, yet it was being tagged as something new. He had actually recorded this catchy number many years earlier, as part of a Cuban descarga album. Under the careful direction of Gast, the camera crew then followed the young boy across empty lots, through wire meshes and into unlit basements, over rubbish-filled stoops and into a burnt-out block where the neighborhood kids were jamming on their tumbadoras. It was a fantastic percussive groove that would eventually wipe out any and all memory of ballroom dancing.
It is interesting to note that long after the decline of “salsa”, during the last two decades of the twentieth century, dancers over 60 years of age were still moving their feet to the rhythms of mambo, cha cha chá, lindy hop, jitterbug, swing jazz and Carolina shagg.
And Roseland? It still stands there, for what purpose no one knows.
EPILOGUE
By 1980 the hard core mambo/salsa dancers had lost many of their best venues, which gave rise to smaller clubs with less space, making it prohibitive for their owners to hire more than one band. It was the beginning of the end. The other factor was the ever changing face of “latin” music itself. The marielitos had brought with them a new fresh sound from the island, a sound that as just begging to let be heard. Undoubtedly, the seeds of “timba” were in that exodus. In 1984 a teenager was shot to death on the dance floor in Roseland. In 1990, after a tourist by the name of Brian Watkins was killed on the subway platform, four of the eight suspects were found partying at the club. As a result, “disco nights” were discontinued and there were concerns over it being torn down for redevelopment. In 1996, a new owner, Laurence Ginsburg, filed plans to tear down the venue and replace it with a 42-story, 459-unit apartment building. A spokesman for Ginsburg said the filing was to “beat a deadline for new, more stringent earthquake codes, which went into effect earlier” in 1996. It wasn’t of course, and the interior space has been subsequently renovated, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t eventually come down. All in the name of progress, I guess. During its fifty some odd years at the 52nd St. location, Roseland has hosted everything from a Hillary Clinton birthday party to musical performances from rock artists like Madonna, Paul McCartney and the Rolling Stones, but the most memorable evening for Latin New Yorkers is the night that Miguelito Valdés, the man from the barrio of Belén, was honored by his peers and by his adoring fans. I was there, and it is one night I will always remember fondly. Who would have known that on that night, “latin” music as we knew it, was about to die.
CODA
Finally, I asked Terry to give me his opinion on “salsa” and this is what he replied: Chico, what can I say? I simply love it and I enjoy playing it, more than anything else, except maybe latin jazz! But to be perfectly honest, it is the same stuff I’ve been playing since my youth back in Panama. I mean, there have been certain innovations throughout the years, but basically, it is the same swinging son montuno and mambo that I have always played. The arrangements and the messages may have changed somewhat, reflecting the different times, but the foundation and the structure have remained unchanged since the 50’s.
CHICO: And what about rap and reggaetón?
TERRY: You know Chico, I don’t like to put anyone down, but I personally cannot get into it. To me, it’s a degeneration of what we once knew as music. I suppose every generation feels the need to go its own way, you know, do their own thing as it were, but this stuff is just totally off-color. It doesn’t even qualify as music. Sorry to be so blunt, but I can’t hear anything musical in it. Why, these so-called artists don’t even use real musicians for the recordings! Invariably, the end result is concocted electronically in the studio, without any kind of chart, usually by one or perhaps two persons, neither of whom has even studied the bare rudiments of music. I mean, how are they gonna reproduce these sounds in a live setting? The answer is that they can’t.
Sadly, it sounds like they are scrapping the bottom of the barrel. Maybe it’s time to throw away the blueprint, and start from scratch again. You know, create music, and not just sounds.
About Terry Pearce
Terry Leopold Pearce was born on August 10, 1933 in Colón Panama. As a child Terry loved and developed a skill for playing the piano. By the age of 12 he started playing professionally. When he was 17 years old he was recruited by Armando Boza to play the piano. In years to come he would get a job playing his piano on the cruise ships. He would come play with the likes of Chubby Checker and Frankie Lymon when they would come to town.
In 1962 he emigrated from Panama to New York and settled in the Brooklyn area, as most Panamanians did at this time. He enjoyed watching baseball and rooted for his cousin Héctor López who played for the 61 Yankees and also was settled in Brooklyn. In years to come, he would join the world famous Roseland Ballroom as a member of their Latin band. He would also start his own business, Terry’s Van Service, that would deliver makeup and cologne to department stores that he would receive from his long time friend and mentor Herb Wilson.
Terry would later parlay his van service into a trucking business called TLP Transportation. In this business he would deliver computer paper to numerous parts of Long Island and Queens. With music still being his love and passion, Terry went from band member to band leader of the Latin band at the Roseland Ballroom with his name on the marquee “Terry Pearce Orchestra.”
Terry retired from the trucking business in 2002. In his golden years, he concentrated on music and would play gigs in numerous cities. Unfortunately his last playing days were before the pandemic because everything was shut down. He passed away on November 16, 2022.
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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Isabelle Livramento
Mar 9, 2015 at 11:48 am
Correction: My husband Joe Livramento played with Ramon Arqueso Orchestra from 1973-1992 but contined to play in NYC until 1996.