FEATURE:
Beneath the Sleeve
Buena Vista Social Club – Buena Vista Social Club
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MANY people might not…
IN THIS PHOTO: Cuba's Buena Vista Social Club band, (L-R, top) Guajiro Miraval, Israel 'Cachao' Lopez, Barbarito Torrez, Juan de Marcos, Ibrahim Ferrer, (L-R, bottom) Compay Segundo and Omara Portuondo in Mexico City, Mexico on 26th February, 2003/PHOTO CREDIT: Jorge Uzon/AFP/Getty
know about this album, but it is one that I really love. For this Beneath the Sleeve, I am going to spend some time with 1997’s Buena Vista Social Club. Buena Vista Social Club are an ensemble of Cuban musicians directed by Juan de Marcos González and American guitarist Ry Cooder. Produced by Cooder, Buena Vista Social Club was recorded at Havana's EGREM studios in March 1996 and released on 23rd June, 1997. Even though the album did not chart high when it was released, it was acclaimed by critics and has this incredible legacy. Before getting to features about its legacy, I want to start out with a review from Record Collector about the twenty-fifth anniversary reissue of this amazing album:
“Every once in a while, an album comes along that confounds expectations and skyrockets out of its supposed niche market to become a global phenomenon. It happened in 2000 with the archaic Americana soundtrack to the Coen brothers’ film O Brother Where Art Thou? (few could have predicted its worldwide sales of 10 million or haul of five Grammy awards), but the fruits of a group of veteran Cuban musicians just a few years earlier was perhaps an even more surprising success.
Buena Vista Social Club was a loose collective brought together by Havana-born bandleader Juan de Marcos Gonzalez and American guitarist-producer Ry Cooder to celebrate the island nation’s indigenous rhythms. The aim of its paymasters, the British-based World Circuit record label, was to promote the sounds of Cuba on a global stage, and it ended up doing that at an extraordinary level; aided by an award-winning documentary by filmmaker Wim Wenders, the album went on to sell eight million copies.
The Latin American ensemble’s own intentions were perhaps more humble, many of the players just happy to have a paying gig during lean times for the country’s music industry. Much of the album’s contents, however, hark back to more salubrious days, of a pre-revolution, pre-Castro-era Cuba when dozens of clubs and ballrooms across Havana echoed to the persuasive joy of mambo and jazz.
Numbers such as De Camino a la Verada, written and sung by the then 77-year-old Ibrahim Ferrer, and the traditional “danzon” dance of Pueblo Nuevo had been staples of the Cuban music scene since the early 50s, but given a fresh lick of paint and renewed sonic vitality by Cooder’s atmospheric production. Having said that, the track chosen as a curtain-raising single, Chan Chan, was a near enough contemporary song, written and first recorded by “trova” guitarist Compay Segundo in 1984, the tale of a couple thrilled by the simplicity of dancing to rhythms made by shaking makeshift instruments containing beach sand.
One of the keys that unlocks the thrills of the album is its blend of frivolity and more sober reflections on a nation often weighed down by the upheavals of its past. If Buena Vista is a postcard, it’s one of bright, dazzling colours but with frayed edges and corners – a party where the rum is served with a splash of paradox.
It all proved irresistible to a certain stripe of record buyer, but far beyond the frequently sneered-at musical tourists accused of embracing distant cultures as a kind of hipster boy scout badge. The album’s impact was felt everywhere, not just on the expected shelves of “world” music aficionados; its place in the context of a wider conscious is evident by its mention in Fury, Salman Rushdie’s 2001 novel about globalisation.
This reissue, to mark the upcoming 25th anniversary, contains an additional 12 tracks left off the original album, most of which meet the same exacting high standards. It’s as fresh as it was during the seven short days it was committed to tape, inviting us to take our places on the dancefloor one more time.
Q+A:
Buena Vista bandleader Juan de Marcos Gonzalez recounts how the record changed his life.
Buena Vista Social Club was originally planned as a much different album to how it ended up, wasn’t it?
The intention of Nick Gold of the World Circuit label was to make a record combining Cuban and African musicians, so I enlisted many local players to go into the Egrem studios in Havana to perform with musicians from Mali. There is a shared heritage between the two countries, you can draw parallels between the musical roots of both, so the idea was for a hybrid of that. But there were difficulties in obtaining visas for the Africans and they never made it over. We Cubans went ahead anyway, seeing as the studio time had already been booked.
Were you familiar with Ry Cooder prior to the making of the album?
Yes, I had known of Ry and his music for a long time, going back to him appearing on records by Paul Revere & The Raiders in the 1960s. For a long time it was hard to hear American music in Cuba, but there were two AM radio stations I was able to pick up; one from Little Rock, Arkansas, that played serious rock music, and another from Key West in Florida that was much more of a pop station. I have always admired Ry as a musician and for the many varied influences in his music. His soundtrack to the film Crossroads has always been a favourite of mine, and it was an honour to be working with him. I’d like to think we learned a lot from each other during Buena Vista.
Your fellow musicians were well-known in Cuba, but is it fair to say they were struggling at the time the album was made?
That’s right, because of the state of the country’s economy the music industry was suffering and there were not many opportunities. Ruben Gonzalez [pianist, who died in 2003] was in his 70s when we recorded the album, but he didn’t have many possessions. He would walk four
miles every day from where he lived to a friend’s house just so that he had a piano to play. Ibrahim Ferrer [singer, died in 2005] was doing menial work to get by; he was shining shoes when we made the record.
The album’s success must have been life-changing.
Certainly. When I was in London promoting it early on, because it was doing so well outside of Cuba, one of the first things myself and Nick Gold did was go to the instrument shops in Denmark Street and buy Ruben an electric piano of his own! There was a great history between his family and mine, he had played in a band with my father in the 40s. When he next made a record of his own, he used a photograph of my 13-year-old daughter on the sleeve. She’s a grown woman of 38 now, and whenever I look at that picture it reminds me just how special Buena Vista Social Club was to all of us”".
In a music year (1997) when nothing like Buena Vista Social Club was in the mainstream and being discussed widely, perhaps it is not a surprise that this album was not a huge seller. However, it is this incredible work that we need to revisit. Let’s actually go back a bit and discover the story. Even though many of its ageing singers are no longer with us, the legacy and influence of this album remains. A huge wave of Pop that came through in the late-1990s and 2000s can be traced back to Buena Vista Social Club:
“As Cuban revolutions go, it was an entirely peaceable uprising – but its impact could not have been more profound. On the release of the Buena Vista Social Club™ album in 1997, few outside the specialist world music audience initially took much notice of the record’s elegantly sculpted tunes and warm, acoustic rhythms. Then something extraordinary occurred. The album was spectacularly reviewed by a few discerning critics, but although their words of praise did Buena Vista’s cause no harm, they cannot explain what subsequently happened. Good reviews create an early surge in sales, but unless it’s a big pop release sustained by an expensive TV advertising campaign, the established pattern is that interest then slowly tails off. Instead, Buena Vista’s sales figures kept steadily rising week by week, building almost entirely by word-of-mouth until it achieved critical mass: all who heard the record not only fell in love with Buena Vista’s irresistible magic, but were then inspired to play or recommend the album to everyone they knew. It was one of those rare records that transcended the vagaries of fad and fashion to sound timeless but utterly fresh. Once you heard it, you had to have a heart of stone not to be swept away by the music’s romantic impulses and uninhibited exuberance.
That its impact had made waves, far beyond the specialist world music audience was soon self-evident. Buena Vista went on to win a Grammy and its crossover success persuaded the acclaimed director Wim Wenders to make an award-winning feature film about the phenomenon. Nick Gold, whose World Circuit label released the record, put it:
“Buena Vista was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. We knew we’d made a special record but nobody could have imagined how it would take off.” The record’s success launched what can only be described as Cuba-mania, helping to inspire a thousand salsa dance classes and Cuban-themed bars on every high street. At its peak, it seemed that you couldn’t move without hearing Buena Vista’s potent, captivating soundtrack.
Today the album’s global sales stand at over eight million, making it the biggest-selling Cuban album in history. As one critic put it, Buena Vista has become “world music’s equivalent of The Dark Side of the Moon.”
The veteran pianist Rubén González, who didn’t own a piano at the time had been persuaded out of retirement by Juan de Marcos for the All Stars album. Not that it took much coaxing: despite his years of inactivity, his playing was on fire and so eager was he to get to the piano that every morning when the janitor turned up to unlock the studio doors, he was already waiting outside. The singer Ibrahim Ferrer, who was scraping a living shining shoes and selling lottery tickets, was also rescued from obscurity – and proceeded to sing his heart out. Eliades Ochoa the great guitarist and singer provided the rural roots from Santiago. Omara Portuondo was recruited as the company’s leading lady and the rich, resonant voice of the 89 year-old Compay Segundo provided a link with Cuba’s deepest musical past. “He knew the best songs and how to do them because he’d been doing it since World War One,” as Ry Cooder noted.
Yet this stellar line-up of singers was only part of the story. Behind them were some of the finest musicians Cuba had to offer, including the bassist Orlando ‘Cachaíto’ López, who provided the heartbeart, trumpet player Manuel ‘Guajiro’ Mirabal, who added the flair, and Barbarito Torres the virtuoso laoúd player. In the space of two weeks World Circuit’s Havana recording blitz produced not only the Afro Cuban All Stars and the Buena Vista Social Club™ albums but also the debut solo album by Rubén González.
When they had finished recording, Ry Cooder knew that he had been privileged to be part of a unique musical experience. “This is the best thing I was ever involved in,” he said prior to Buena Vista’s release in June 1997. “It’s the peak, a music that takes care of you and nurtures you. I felt that I had trained all my life for this experience and it was a blessed thing.”
In Cuba, Ry noted, he had found the kind of deeply rooted musical context that he had been searching for all his life. “These are the greatest musicians alive on the planet today,” he enthused. “In my experience Cuban musicians are unique. The organisation of the musical group is perfectly understood. There is no ego, no jockeying for position so they have evolved the perfect ensemble concept”.
I want to bring is some segments from a conversation between critics of The New York Times from 2021, where they discussed the impact and legacy of the extraordinary Buena Vista Social Club, twenty-five years after it was released. I would urge anyone who has never heard the album to play it today. I am going to end with a review that puts into words why it is such a remarkable album:
“JON PARELES Indulge me with an anecdote. In 2000, I visited Cuba for an utterly amazing festival of rumba. It was three years after the release of “Buena Vista Social Club,” well into the album’s commercial explosion. A typical Havana tourist, I wandered through the old city center, where it seemed like there was a bar with live music on every corner. What I remember vividly was a host outside one club, who knew an American when he saw one. “We have old guys!” he announced.
ISABELIA HERRERA I like your anecdote, Jon, because it captures how the concept of nostalgia is key to understanding the legacy of “Buena Vista Social Club.” The aura around the project (as well as the images in the reissue’s packaging) evokes these “old guys” smoking cigars in black-and-white photos, or playing instruments on the street near colorful vintage cars — a particular, antiquated image of pre-revolutionary Cuba in the American public consciousness.
It’s a notion that almost fetishizes the idea of isolation: one that suggests that Cuban musicians and listeners are totally separated from contemporary popular culture, frozen in time during the so-called “golden era” of the 1940s and ’50s. Notably, the liner notes of this anniversary edition open with a quote from Cooder: “The players and singers of the ‘son de Cuba’ have nurtured this very refined and deeply funky music in an atmosphere sealed off from the fall out of a hyper-organised and noisy world.”
Framing “Buena Vista” within the context of isolation diminishes its achievements and those of Cuban music before and after it. As the scholar Alexandra Vazquez has written, the uptick in compilations of and guides to Cuban music that followed “Buena Vista” helped generate plenty of myths about the island. They contributed to the fantasy that Cuban musicians ceased to innovate after the 1940s and ’50s, and proliferated the idea that you have to visit the island and immerse yourself in its vintage culture “before it changes forever” — as though Cuba is some kind of hidden paradise to be discovered, rather than a place that people call home.
I say this as someone who grew up in a household that adored “Buena Vista Social Club.” I have fond memories of my father singing “Dos Gardenias” in the evenings after dinner and a glass of wine, and returning to the album brings me back to a special part of my childhood. But I do think it’s worth pushing against that nostalgia, because the mythology of Buena Vista Social Club has tended to eclipse the actual music and its history. This is especially true in the way that it presents its musicians as being “rediscovered” or “saved” from erasure, when singers like Omara Portuondo enjoyed plenty of international success before this project (for one, she toured the United States with the group Cuarteto D’Aida and performed with Nat King Cole in the 1950s).
HERRERA Jon, you asked earlier if “Buena Vista Social Club” pointed a way forward. It is hard to avoid the reality that the project follows in a long line of musical projects that ended up “reintroducing” or “summarizing” musical cultures for foreign ears — even if the recording initially emerged as a happy accident. Ultimately, I am so glad these musicians achieved the success they did, and that new markets were opened to them, because they were well-deserving of compensation.
Today, there is such a vibrant community of Cuban hip-hop, and dozens of other Cuban musicians that I hope get a similar level of recognition on an international scale. At the very least, “Buena Vista Social Club” offered more curious, thoughtful listeners an entire new musical world. But a more ideal way forward would undo the colonial logic that underpins the legacy of “Buena Vista Social Club” — the requirement for Western support in order for “foreign” music to be valued — so these artists could be appreciated on their own terms”.
I will end with a review from AllMusic. It is a shame that there was not another album from the ensemble. One of those rare moments in music where you get this single album that just takes on a life of its own. You look around the music landscape today and can see which artists and genres can be traced back to Buena Vista Social Club:
“This album is named after a members-only club that was opened in Havana in pre-Castro times, a period of unbelievable musical activity in Cuba. While bandleader Desi Arnaz became a huge hit in the States, several equally talented musicians never saw success outside their native country, and have had nothing but their music to sustain them during the Castro reign. Ry Cooder went to Cuba to record a musical documentary of these performers. Many of the musicians on this album have been playing for more than a half century, and they sing and play with an obvious love for the material. Cooder could have recorded these songs without paying the musicians a cent; one can imagine them jumping up and grabbing for their instruments at the slightest opportunity, just to play. Most of the songs are a real treasure, traversing a lot of ground in Cuba's musical history. There's the opening tune, "Chan Chan," a composition by 89-year-old Compay Segundo, who was a bandleader in the '50s; the cover of the early-'50s tune "De Camino a la Verada," sung by the 72-year-old composer Ibrahim Ferrer, who interrupted his daily walk through Havana just long enough to record; or the amazing piano playing on "Pablo Nuevo" by 77-year-old Rubén González, who has a unique style that blends jazz, mambo, and a certain amount of playfulness. All of these songs were recorded live -- some of them in the musicians' small apartments -- and the sound is incredibly deep and rich, something that would have been lost in digital recording and overdubbing. Cooder brought just the right amount of reverence to this material, and it shows in his production, playing, and detailed liner notes. If you get one album of Cuban music, this should be the one”.
The 25th Anniversary Edition is available, and this is an album I would encourage everyone to get. Such a wonderful and enriching listen, you will come back to it time and time again. I am a big fan of it and wanted to explore it more here. I hope it gives you the background and details that encourage you to investigate further. It is almost thirty years since it came out, yet Buena Vista Social Club has lost none of its brilliance and passion. I am going toff to listen to this brilliant album…
RIGHT now.
