Wednesday, April 30, 2003
Caribbean high-pressure system lands at the Forum
The Outer Banks Forum for the Lively Arts was visited Sunday afternoon by the tropical hurricane from Cuba known as Habana Sax.
The Caribbean musicians tore ... it ... up!
They mounted the stage in the dark. Drummer Francois Zayas could be heard riffing very lightly on his snare drum and some small percussion instruments, which were joined presently by a soft flute. A soprano sax added to the lilting, spectral piece, which soon faded ... faded ...
The lights came up with the first kick on the bass drum and the overwhelming, stomping funk of "Maradentro." The audience rocked back in their seats and regarded the musicians onstage. They were Zayas; Jorge Almeida, soprano and alto saxes; Eduardo Fernandez, tenor sax and flute; Evaristo Denis, baritone sax; and Angel Ballester, tenor sax and flute, and they were playing up a storm.
They shook the Forum to its foundations, their faces in attitudes of joyous concentration. Each was dressed nattily in a cotton suit with matching shoes, and they interspersed their riffs with little bits of choreography.
There was no bass save a huge baritone sax, no keyboards. The four frontmen shared saxophones, flutes and percussion, sometimes changing instruments in the middle of a piece. At times they sang in chorus.
In their day-jobs they are professors in the National School of Music and the Superior Institute of Art and Culture of Cuba. Zayas is also a soloist with the Cuban National Symphonic Orchestra.
Their second piece, a gift of friendship, was George Gershwin's "Summertime," given their own inimitable treatment. As a syncopated salsa it went from strength to strength. The musicians unsuccessfully tried to get the game audience to clap along with a 5/4 section before they brought it home.
Keeping the energy level up, they performed "Rap Cubano" in mysterious straw hats, during which Fernandez delivered a 60-mile-an-hour rap in Spanish, stalking the stage and bustin' moves. Still it was one of the most melodic raps ever.
There were a few quiet moments. The musicians put down their instruments and walked to the front of the stage where Denis led them in a beautiful à capella African song, which included a hand-clapping solo. Not technically a solo, as each Habañero clapped the equivalent of a different drum. Together they sounded not unlike Buddy Rich.
After a very danceable Cuban number during which nobody danced, Almeida thought they would try an American tune. They attacked Glenn Miller's boogie-woogie "In the Mood," Ballester walking it with an electronic sax that sounded like a heavy keyboard bass.
Nobody in the stunned audience thought to get up during this number either. Almeida asked in Spanish if someone in the audience would translate "I am disappointed that no one got up to dance here." There was plenty of dancing in the seats, however.
Zayas began "Wapango" with an extended, astounding maracas solo that soon sounded like a nest of dancing rattlesnakes.
The last number, "because you're very tired," Almeida said, would be a Chucho Valdés song, requiring some volunteers from the audience. These were brought onstage, given percussion instruments and encouraged to join in the Afro-Cuban rhythms. Gradually the musicians left the stage and sat in the audience leaving their acolytes alone onstage. They happily kept the rhythm going until the Cubans regained the stage, brought the song to an end and disappeared into the wings.
The standing patrons applauded until the musicians came out of the wings and stepped down into the audience. The Cubans stood in the aisle, facing the standing house, and applauded back.
By body- and hand-language the musicians softened the applause until the audience stopped, still standing, facing the group. The Cubans were clapping now very softly. They gradually increased their volume into another five-part polyrhythmic hand-clapping tour de force, brought it to a climax, waved and left the exhilarated and exhausted audience.
©2003 Womack Newspapers Inc.
The Caribbean musicians tore ... it ... up!
They mounted the stage in the dark. Drummer Francois Zayas could be heard riffing very lightly on his snare drum and some small percussion instruments, which were joined presently by a soft flute. A soprano sax added to the lilting, spectral piece, which soon faded ... faded ...
The lights came up with the first kick on the bass drum and the overwhelming, stomping funk of "Maradentro." The audience rocked back in their seats and regarded the musicians onstage. They were Zayas; Jorge Almeida, soprano and alto saxes; Eduardo Fernandez, tenor sax and flute; Evaristo Denis, baritone sax; and Angel Ballester, tenor sax and flute, and they were playing up a storm.
They shook the Forum to its foundations, their faces in attitudes of joyous concentration. Each was dressed nattily in a cotton suit with matching shoes, and they interspersed their riffs with little bits of choreography.
There was no bass save a huge baritone sax, no keyboards. The four frontmen shared saxophones, flutes and percussion, sometimes changing instruments in the middle of a piece. At times they sang in chorus.
In their day-jobs they are professors in the National School of Music and the Superior Institute of Art and Culture of Cuba. Zayas is also a soloist with the Cuban National Symphonic Orchestra.
Their second piece, a gift of friendship, was George Gershwin's "Summertime," given their own inimitable treatment. As a syncopated salsa it went from strength to strength. The musicians unsuccessfully tried to get the game audience to clap along with a 5/4 section before they brought it home.
Keeping the energy level up, they performed "Rap Cubano" in mysterious straw hats, during which Fernandez delivered a 60-mile-an-hour rap in Spanish, stalking the stage and bustin' moves. Still it was one of the most melodic raps ever.
There were a few quiet moments. The musicians put down their instruments and walked to the front of the stage where Denis led them in a beautiful à capella African song, which included a hand-clapping solo. Not technically a solo, as each Habañero clapped the equivalent of a different drum. Together they sounded not unlike Buddy Rich.
After a very danceable Cuban number during which nobody danced, Almeida thought they would try an American tune. They attacked Glenn Miller's boogie-woogie "In the Mood," Ballester walking it with an electronic sax that sounded like a heavy keyboard bass.
Nobody in the stunned audience thought to get up during this number either. Almeida asked in Spanish if someone in the audience would translate "I am disappointed that no one got up to dance here." There was plenty of dancing in the seats, however.
Zayas began "Wapango" with an extended, astounding maracas solo that soon sounded like a nest of dancing rattlesnakes.
The last number, "because you're very tired," Almeida said, would be a Chucho Valdés song, requiring some volunteers from the audience. These were brought onstage, given percussion instruments and encouraged to join in the Afro-Cuban rhythms. Gradually the musicians left the stage and sat in the audience leaving their acolytes alone onstage. They happily kept the rhythm going until the Cubans regained the stage, brought the song to an end and disappeared into the wings.
The standing patrons applauded until the musicians came out of the wings and stepped down into the audience. The Cubans stood in the aisle, facing the standing house, and applauded back.
By body- and hand-language the musicians softened the applause until the audience stopped, still standing, facing the group. The Cubans were clapping now very softly. They gradually increased their volume into another five-part polyrhythmic hand-clapping tour de force, brought it to a climax, waved and left the exhilarated and exhausted audience.
©2003 Womack Newspapers Inc.
