NPR Music - Alt.Latino celebrates Black History Month

Episode Date: February 26, 2025

Alt.Latino host Felix Contreras speaks with Grammy Award-winning Puerto Rican saxophonist Miguel Zenón about the Afro-Latino legacy on the island.See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for sponsorship and to manage your podcast sponsorship preferences.NPR Privacy Policy

From NPR music, I'm Felix Contreras. Anna Maria Serr is traveling this week and left the studio empty, so I'm going to step in, close the door, and record a show with just you and me. What I have planned is a continuation of an alt-Latino tradition of recognizing Black History Month with music from Afro-Latino populations from throughout Latin America. And we're going to feature a conversation I had with saxophonist Miguel Zenon,

who is originally from Puerto Rico and identifies as Afro-Latino. I ask him to come in and talk about the Afro-Po Puerto Rican composer Tite Gouret Olonso, a behind-the-scenes musician type of figure known for hundreds of songs that he wrote mainly for artists on the Fania label in the 1970s and 80s. And many of those songs celebrate the history of African heritage in the Americas and specifically the Caribbean. But to get started, we're going to go to Venezuela. Betsada Maceida Machado comes from a small town called El Chavo, which is near the Caribbean coast of Venezuela.

Like much of the music from Latin America and the Caribbean, its strongest influence is from West Africa, but it's also mixed with European and indigenous music. The song that we're going to hear right now is called O Santa Rosa, and it's Betsaida Machado. And Parranda El Chavo. Okay, let's do a little bit of history. Slavery was not abolished in Venezuela until 1854. Now, that's about 40 years after their independence from Spain. And the reverberations of that societal acceptance of slavery is felt today with the marginalization of the Afro-Venezuelans in that society right now, but also throughout history.

Now, former President Hugo Chavez claimed African ancestry, and in 2005, he established May 10 as Afro-Venezuelan Day. And that date marks the start of a 1795 revolt by enslaved people against colonial authorities. What blossomed after that declaration was an appreciation and recognition of Afro-Venezuelan traditions throughout the country. And Bitsaida Machado became one of the most well-known and recognizable examples of that mix of Africa, Spanish, and indigenous cultural expression. Almost six years ago to the day in February of 2016, Bitsaida Machado and Paranda El Chavo graced our space with their powerful performance

that included some amazing percussion I'd never seen, and I thought I'd seen it all, and they even had some dancers. Oh, Santa Rosa, and the artist is Bitsaido Machado and Paranda El Chavo. Let's go contemporary to talk about the African influence on Brazilian music, with vocalist from Minasera Bia Ferreira. Now, she started making music in 2018, and her music leans into issues of race

and the place of women in Brazilian society. Now, I'm going to play a track called When Votea meola, which means when you look at me from the album Faminta, which was released in 2022. And please pardon my Portuguese, of course you all know,

it's pretty much non-existent. You may let me talk, T'a, ta, Tens, does this with me, T'allé, c'allero, Cora, no, can't be in imagination, you know, you know, you know, so you'll be very good, there, but I'm here,

so I'm gonna'l'l o'clock, Come, come to tack a a little bit a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-o does this with me, no. You're at least, and acer, the Cora, no, can't be in imagination. V-You know that's be very good, there's more space here in my co-chon.

So, don't let's for the well, me, when I take to the Cama, all the day of the semester, this is my moment of lazier, passia in your curva, me afogar in your vuv, and repeat it all of the day, I'll repeat, all the day, I want to give a little bit more history.

Brazil is the largest country in South America. Now look at the map. It's so big, it shares borders with just about every country in South America, which means the African influence is expressed in a whole bunch of styles and genres. Now most people know samba, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. Now with this track and this artist, I like it when musical influences are subtle and nuanced. Now, some examples are very obvious. Like, pick any traditional carnival music in Latin America and the Caribbean.

It's right there. It's in your face. It's unmistakable. This track by Bia Ferreira, it's minimalist. There's various instruments playing the individual parts of an African-influenced rhythm. And it creates lots of space, but never loses the groove, which can end up taking over your hips or at least getting your toes tapping or head nodding. Limpah do the side of the book that's

It's a callress, me moly, I'm a fogger, and recupero for to repeat for because See, I'm look,

to talk, bejua, a niga, I'm, I'm a taut. No, I accelerate the the caraceau

on the cochion, then don't let's to be . Now don't sleep on this album called Famita. It's a double CD full of incredible music.

It's a whole new world of an artist that you didn't know but should. Now, she did a Tiny Desk home concert in January, 2023. And it was a collaboration with the Global Fest event in New York City. Their performance is heavily influenced by African-American R&B and hip-hop. And essentially, another example of an Afro-Latina artist, closing the circle on two strands of the African diaspora. That's Bia Fareda. Now we're going to take a quick break. Don't go away. Keep those pencils and paper handy because I know you're taking copious notes. We'll be right back. All right. Welcome back to Alt Latino. You know, one of the most significant moments of recognition of Afro-Latino culture and history, at least in this country, or even the presence of African heritage and Latino cultures was evident in the music of Fania Records during the 1970s and 80s. And we all think fondly of the label for decades of groovy dance moves and nice.

parties, but just the presence of so many Afro-Latino performers was a big deal. And the lyrics, one of the most unknown presence in salsa, was a composer Tite Curet Alonso from Puerto Rico. Now, we could do a whole show on his music and significant vote. We're going to instead insert a little bit of his story and music into the show this week, and I brought along a guide to share some of his music, saxophonist, composer, music professor, Grammy winner, cultural ambassador, MacArthur Foundation fellow, an all-around nice guy, Miguel Zanon. Miguel, thanks for coming out, Latino, bro.

My pleasure. I'm of the age, like, I was a record geek. I would go to these record stores or I would buy the albums, and I would just devour the liner notes, man. And when I was discovering Fania Records out in California in the 1970s, 78, 79, stuff like that, I was, like, seeing this composer,

Dita Cudera-Alonso, but I never saw any albums by him, and I always wondered, like, who was this guy? And it wasn't until much later. that I understood his role in the music and his history and all that. Give us an idea of who he was and what his significant was for the label. His name was actually Catalino, Curel Alonso, known as Tite. One of those on-song heroes, you know, who was like,

like he became sort of the center of the salsa sound, especially the Fania sound, especially in the 70s, and became the center of that and eventually, you know, became sort of like a stamp of what this music was supposed to sound like. Born in Santhurse, Puerto Rico, grew up in the area of Barrio Rero, which is not far from where I grew up. He was beloved by everyone, and he was one of those guys who was always walking around, talking to people. And he lived to New York for a while where he connected with all the musicians and all the musicians that were making music there. Kind of went back and forth.

He worked at the post office of Puerto Rico for like 20 years. He had a really long life. But I think at the center of everything that he did, he was he was a collector of stories. And he was able to put those stories forth. and there's amazing songs that he wrote that really struck a nerve not only with the artist themselves who embraced the songs,

but with the audience. Something about salsa was that, you know, the audience, they wanted to dance and have a good time, but they were conscious about what was going on. They were connected to all the struggles of the working class, and I think he put those ideas out there

and the public really embraced them. It's really amazing to me how someone like that who really went on song for a long time, unless you were looking at the credits like you did, you had no idea who he was or even his name. But the fact that he's been so embraced and so beloved towards the end of his life and now is sort of a testament for how powerful his music could be.

And he was prolific, man. I read somewhere like he had like something like over 200 hit songs. He wrote everything from salsa to bolero to samba. He was all over the place. kind of became the go-to guy, the singers. I mean, Ruben Blaze is someone who constantly mentions them as a source of inspiration. You know, Cheo Feliciano, Ismael Rivera, Hector Laval,

they all recorded his songs. It would be hard for you to listen to a couple of final records from the 70s without running into a few of his songs. Actually, as a matter of fact, there's a joke that a lot of people make in Puerto Rico. Like, if you listen to a salsa song and you don't know who wrote it, there's a good chance that he wrote it. You brought in some tracks that we know he wrote.

We're going to jump into those real quick. The thing about his music is that it celebrated the Africanness of the culture. And the first track you brought in that we're going to play is Las Casas Lindas from Ismail Rivera. Talk to us a little bit about this song. Las Casas Lindas, yeah. This was released in 1978 on an album called This Is Lo Mio by Isma Rivera. Isma Rivera, if folks don't know, I mean, it's kind of, It's kind of hard to describe the impact that he had as a figure,

not just as a singer, but as a figure, especially within Afro-Po-Porekans. He grew up in the neighborhood right next to mine. He would have stories from my family, you know, him coming in the neighborhood and people looking at him. And he was, you know, kind of like as this musical god, you know. But at the same time, he was directly connected with the people. So this song that Tite wrote, Las Casillas Lindas, It's sort of the epiphany of the idea of not just acknowledging black Puerto Ricans and Afro-Latino,

but acknowledging the fact that we should be proud about that. He wrote it in this song, Las Casas Lina Lina Linares. He kind of describes it in all this beautiful metaphors. And then when Ismail goes into his sonneo, it's one of those songs that the song is so powerful, but the interpretation of Ismail brought it to another level. And if you can think of a hymn that really exemplifies the idea, of what it means to be Afro-Polorekian, especially at this point in time, is for sure this song.

Las Cades Lindas from Ismail Rivera, written by Tite Courette Bolonso. That's essentially black is beautiful on the island. Yes, that's exactly what it is. And, of course, reading the liner notes, even on digitally online, that coro on that song, Ruben plays, A LaBerce Santiago, Hector Lavo, Nestor Sanchez. It's amazing, yeah. They were just hanging out and helping out with the coro. I have a good friend who's an expert on all those records,

and he can recognize the Koro, when he listens. He's like, yeah, that's Jayolindio, Alberto, and Rubenblis. That's Hector Laval. And it's amazing to think that all these singers who were so recognized would still go in and do backups for their colleagues. It was like this collective thing that was happening. They were so powerful that you could still get this idea of all this amazing singers just kind of doing backups for each other.

Did he ever talk about what connected him to the African heritage on the island? You know, I'm sure he did. I mean, there's a bunch of interviews when he kind of goes deep into the idea of Afro-Porto-Protorecans being an actual presence. A lot of times, you know, when we think about Afro and the Americas, we think about what happened in this country, and we don't, by extension, we don't really extend into other places. And he kind of made a point not only in his songs, but a lot of his interviews to talk about his experience, of course. I mean, he's a black Puerto Rican, but also the people who grow up around them. putting all these ideas in the songs and making sure that folks, you know, heard it. And what's really great for me, I mean, it's not just the songs, but the singers, they embrace these ideas and their interpretations, their sonneos, their improvisations. They took the idea and kind of flew with it. So Las Casas Lindas, for example, is a perfect example of that.

Maelos improvisations, they just kind of expand on the theme. Okay, we're going to move on to the next song. We mentioned Ruben Blades. We're going to go back to 1977 and Plantacion deodor. Listen to this like his introduction album with Willie Colon? Yeah. This is their first full album together. He did something, one song on the previous album,

but this was their first album that was like a joint sort of venture with Ruben's name and Willie's name sort of together. I mean, all these albums are amazing. This one is just, it's a classic. I mean, so many, so many good songs. To me, it stands out not just because the arrangement is great and just the performance, the interpretation, but the thematic material to me

is just really, really, really powerful. Plantation, but clandexian land was in inside the plantation

and they're about, you know, plantation adentro, camera plantation adentro, camera

so umbrae plantasione in, so inside the plantation and they're talking about, you know, plantations and the people that were sort of like forced

to work in the plantation. all over the Americas, including Latin America. And this song in particular was interesting to me. The main character is a fictional character called Camilo Manriquez. And Camilo Manriquez in the song is not an African slave, but a Native American slave, who's been sort of forced to work along with African slaves in the plantation and eventually gets beaten to death, you know, by the owner of the plantation. And the whole story is sad, of course, but I think what's powerful is this idea that to think that something like this existed in Latin America, that it was present, that it was part of the struggle for things to eventually change a little bit for the better and sort of like a lot of these things to become a little more equal.

But also putting all this idea in perspective that there was, of course, individuals who were being oppressed. But it was the same case with natives You know, I mean, they were sort of like Systematically exterminated and if they were not exterminated They were put to work And then of course, just like Ismail Ruben Who's a master, master songwriter himself Just kind of runs with the idea

And just brings it to another level Camara The sombra's on the gate Camara Selva, Vellver Traga, Selva never

Dishenna Camino Manrique Falle Falestian Rackack the coffee and coge

pa ya if not you pager The most Marjoral Camino Manrique Foyceo Amhersts

and they're interr without you y'all Rastation Adela Stah Plantation

Plantation Plantation adeption Plantation adeption Manfred You know Miguel, it's the people are there

manned manrique palesion plantaceon adetro Camara Plantation adentro from Rubin Blades and Willie Cologne

from 1977 man You know Miguel One of the things that I think that I'm myself and so many other people admire about your work

because it's just this fascinating reinterpretation of a lot of the same things that was being explored during the Fania days and beyond, the idea of culture and identity and specifically Puerto Rico. You do it through the language of jazz. What do you get from Dita Curel-Alonso within your music?

How does he inspire you? Melodies, the song forms, just like the harmonic, even if you just look at it at that. I think it's inspiring enough that you can kind of go into this music and just stay in there pretty much forever. I mean, it's one of those things where it's sort of a bottomless pit of inspiration and information. I mean, I've covered a bunch of his songs and just constantly think about ways to find other layers of information within the songs that I already know. and I've known since I was a kid,

especially as a Puerto Rican as a Latin American musician, working within creative music or jazz music, instrumental music, to have a figure like that that can just kind of constantly be revisited for inspiration and just information. Just imagine, like if you could snap your fingers and if you had a chance to talk to him right now, would you have a question for him? I'm sure you would have a million questions for him,

but what would you ask him? What would you say to him if you had a chance to talk to him? Yeah, that's a great question. When I was going up in Puerto Rico, I remember a couple of times going down to Barrio because my family lived for some time in Villapalmers, which is the next neighborhood. go down to grab the bus.

And I would see Titek, Quetta sitting right there in the class. Like, just talking to people. And I knew it was him, because you could recognize it because of his hat, and he kind of wore like this really, really specific kind of clothes.

Even at that age, and I was probably 11, 12. I knew he was, and I knew it was him, you know. So I kind of imagine, like just kind of gathering the courage, even at that age, just to go up to him and ask him a question.

And I would probably ask him what kind of music he liked, which songs inspired him. where he drew a lot of this information. You know, it strikes me that, as opposed to him being a musician who went to music school and to conservatory, he was more of a guy who just kind of heard it,

you know, and was able to put this into a context where all that people could just kind of arrange it and eventually put it in a record, et cetera. So it feels like to me like he was sort of a natural vehicle for music and a lot of this inspiration. I would have probably asked him, like, you know, who are your favorite composers?

what's your favorite record? What should I go listen to? Because I'm sure that would have gave me another layer into where he was drawing a lot of his inspiration from. You know, I'm sure that if that was case and you're able to do that, I'm sure he would have really wonderful things to say about you and the way you've interpreted the music from the island

and all the work that you've done. Well, I hope so. Okay, so we're going to play this last tune. It's called Lamento de Concepcion from Roberto Rowena. Miga, thanks so much for coming in, man. I really appreciate you taking time to do this and talk about this is such an important My pleasure.

Thank you for doing this. It's really my pleasure, and we'll talk some. Okay, you guys know on the show many, many, many times. For this track, I want to return to a favorite artist and a favorite album. It's an imaginative interpretation of Afro-Cuban spiritual practice music by the collective known as Ifé, which is led by percussionist, Dior. DJ and composer Oturo Moon. This is a track from the album, Eiji Ogbae, and I'm not going to tell you the name of the song, because I think you'll recognize it when you hear it. Check it out.

Did you get that title of that song? Did you recognize it? It's a crazy, creative interpretation of Steve Winwood's Higher Love. Now let me explain a little bit about what you're hearing. Band leader Oturo Moon is a Babelau. And that's a high priest in that tradition that includes worship and musical form. Drumming, usually batah drums, also lots of chants and prayers to the various oritions. Now this track, Higher Love, starts with some of those chants and then the Steve Winwood song, and then more sacred singing at the end. Percussively, it's very, very cool.

What you hear is sparse, but again, nuanced. What you hear is the Afro-Cuban clave beat, accompanied by some Batah drum patterns that are stripped down to just the pulse, like all the other notes are gone and all the other beats are gone, just the pulse. It's an example of Othuro Moon's mastery of the tradition that allows him to present just the essence of a rhythm. Now, they did a Tainidas concert in May of 2018. It featured an amazing group of percussionists as well as Puerto Rican vocalists Yamir Kavan. In fact, Ifei was started in Puerto Rico. The Afro-Cuban practice known as Santaria is very strong there as and Oturo Moon comes from that community.

Okay, now that we're at the end. Again, the point of this week's show was to lift up and celebrate Afro-Latina or Latino culture. And I'm proud to say that Alt-Latino has been a safe and welcome spot for Afro-Latino music and culture from throughout the Spanish and Portuguese-speaking world. We've been doing it from the beginning. Thank you so much for hanging out with me this week. Anna will be back next week. She'll fill us in on her adventures and we'll have more new music for you to discover.

Our audio editor is the great Simon Rentner. Grace Chong tries her best to keep us on track, and we do the best we can to stay on track. Soraya Mohamed is the executive producer of NPR music. Keith Jenkins, the hefe and chief of NPR music and visuals. I'm Felix Contredas. Thank you for listening.