As Mike Seeger was for old-time music, and Alan Lomax for the blues, Juan de Marcos has been a one-man renaissance for traditional Cuban music. Born in 1954 in a musically obsessed barrio of Havana, Gonzalez, like all the Afro-Cuban All Stars, had traditional music in his blood. His father played with the legendary Arsenio Rodriguez, and as a boy, Juan would spend time at the nearby solar, a meeting place for some of Havana’s most significant musicians.
While being schooled in engineering, he also studied classical guitar and formed the seminal Sierra Maestra, a traditional septeto group that revived the classic son sound in the ’70s and ’80s — but with, in his words, a “punk style.” Sierra Maestra prefigured a generation of such Cuban greats as Ruben Gonzalez, Pio Leyva, Manuel “Puntillita” Licea and Amado Valdes with younger musicians such as David Alfaro, Ricardo Munoz and Miguel Anga Diaz.
For Juan de Marcos, overcoming that generational divide — not only reviving the careers of older musicians such as Ibrahim Ferrer and Orlando Lopez, but integrating them with young players — is the most urgent concern for Cuban music. This blending of generations, feeding off the sparks that fly from the confrontation of styles, is at the heart of the All Stars’ vision.
“The problem is that everyone is so focused on their own generation,” he explains. “Sometimes the younger musicians think they have some absolute advantage over the older musicians. And in historical and political terms, Cuba has been very isolated. A country that is so isolated can begin to believe that things outside of the country are better than what is within the country.
“For example, jazz has became very popular with the younger generation, but I think it’s much more difficult to combine North American influences with a Cuban base. At the same time, the younger generation wants to forget the past, especially if the past has been difficult.”
The Afro-Cuban All Stars’ most recent recording, Distinto, Diferente (also on World Circuit), further combines the young and old, paradigmatic son with more contemporary jazz, lushly orchestrated super-charangas, its lyrics reflecting contemporary Cuban life. Thirty-two-year-old David Alfaro, who has worked with Pablo Milanes and NG La Banda, plays piano beside septuagenarian Ruben Gonzalez; their styles contrast so dramatically that a whole new music takes shape.
“I feel great admiration for Ruben Gonzalez and Frank Emilio,” Alfaro says. “I’m their student; they are the masters. And a student must take advantage of what they offer. Ruben has his own absolutely distinct style. He is full of ideas and spontaneity, and, at the same time, his playing is so clear and precise. But in the end you must develop your own style; that’s the most important thing.”
Whether it is just serendipity or a result of Juan de Marcos Gonzalez’ leadership, the Afro-Cuban All Stars have both reasserted the value of the most traditional Cuban music and changed the rules completely.
“Juan de Marcos is very intelligent,” Alfaro says, “but he never restricts my own expression. Cuban son music has its parameters, but my style draws from many sources, and Juan has never tried to limit my playing.”
One of the greatest rediscoveries of the Afro-Cuban All Stars has been the legendary sonero Manuel “Puntillita” Licea. That’s his voice, burnished but full of life, closing the Buena Vista Social Club disc, singing of the Bayamo woman who “can hear her homeland crying out.”
Licea, 73, started out as a drummer but quickly became the lead singer for Havana’s best bands of the ’40s and ’50s. “My father didn’t approve of my traveling with these groups,” Licea says. “Finally we convinced him that I should become a musician and tour with my uncle’s band. And at this time there was a great flu epidemic and the lead singer couldn’t sing on a radio program. I explained that I could do it, and my uncle agreed, but the rest of the band thought I was crazy. I was just a boy. But I learned the songs and sang them, and everyone noticed and commented on my singing. And that’s how I began my career as a singer.
“For awhile I was nearly forgotten,” Licea continues. “You know what they say: Sometimes a pretty face is worth more than the quality of an artist. But I’ve always loved baseball, and in an orchestra, the singer is the pitcher. The pitcher is the one who must have good control and strength, and to always give his best, the singer has to take care of himself. That’s even more important than study and practice. I’ve always tried to take care of myself so that I can continue to perform well, until I can’t perform anymore.”
