Search Results for: Héctor Lavoe

José Mangual Sr. “Buyú”: The Architect of Bongo Sound Defining the Rules of How it Should Sound

In the history of Afro-Latin music, there are names that didn’t just play an instrument they defined the rules of how it should sound. José Mangual Sr., known universally as “Buyú,” is one of those pillars.

José Mangual Sr., known universally as Buyú, is one of those pillars

An extraordinary and legendary percussionist, José Mangual Sr. was the founder of the prestigious percussive lineage that carries his surname.

Since his childhood in Juana Díaz, he professed a deep love for music; by age ten, he was already playing professionally, and during his youth, he even enjoyed crafting his own bongos.

Over time, he became the musician who endowed the instrument with an extraordinary sonority. He was the father of the equally prominent percussionists José Mangual Jr. and Luis Mangual.

The Architect of Sound on the Bongos defining the rules of how it should sound

Considered by experts as one of the greatest bongo players of all time, his legacy remains the gold standard for meter and tuning in Latin Jazz and Salsa.

From Juana Díaz to the Heart of Spanish Harlem

Born on March 18, 1924, in Juana Díaz, Puerto Rico, Mangual discovered his vocation at age 10. However, his musical destiny was sealed in 1938 when he migrated to New York at the age of 14.

Settling in Spanish Harlem (“El Barrio”), he found himself at the epicenter of a cultural explosion that was about to change world music forever.

The Consecration: Machito and his Afro-Cubans

Although he began by filling the timbales position, it was with the Machito and his Afro-Cubans orchestra where “Buyú” made history. Under the direction of Mario Bauzá (who is said to have given him his nickname), Mangual remained with the group for nearly 17 years.

The Legacy and the Patriarch of a Dynasty

Rhythmic Innovation: He was part of the “perfect percussion trio” alongside Carlos Vidal (congas) and Machito (maracas).
Historic Fusion: His performance was key to blending the complexity of Afro-Cuban rhythms with the harmonies of New York Jazz in the 1940s and 50s.

An Unrivaled Session Musician

His technique was so clean and his sound so bright that he became the preferred collaborator for the biggest stars. Throughout his career, he contributed his mastery to projects led by:

Tito Puente: The “King of the Timbales.”
Israel López “Cachao”: Participating in historic Afro-Cuban Jazz “descargas” (jam sessions).
Jazz Greats: His versatility allowed him to navigate fluidly between the world of Big Bands and traditional Salsa ensembles.

Pedagogical Legacy and Solo Career

In the 70s and 80s, Mangual recorded music not only for enjoyment but also for instruction:

Album “Buyú” (1977): A Latin Jazz gem on the Turnstyle label, featuring tracks like “Black & Brown Boogie.”
Musical Education: Alongside conguero Carlos “Patato” Valdés, he recorded the volumes of Understanding Latin Rhythms. These LPs became the auditory manual for thousands of percussionists around the globe.
The Mangual Dynasty: In 1986, he consolidated his family heritage with the album Los Mangual: Una Dinastía, recording alongside his talented sons.

“The sound of his cowbell and his bongo didn’t just mark time; they cemented the foundations of the music we dance to today.”

The Patriarch of a Dynasty

The impact of José Mangual Sr. extends through his sons, who inherited his musical excellence:

José Mangual Jr. (“El Milamores”): Famous bongo player and singer, a key figure in the orchestras of Willie Colón and Héctor Lavoe.
Luis Mangual: Renowned percussionist and musical director.

Passing and Recognition: Buyú passed away in 1998, leaving an irreplaceable void. In 2001, he was posthumously inducted into the International Latin Music Hall of Fame a fitting tribute to the man who gave the bongo unprecedented brilliance and elegance.

Also Read: Israel “Cachao” López, a Cuban musician and composer, has been hailed as “the Inventor of Mambo”

Bandleader and bongosero Ray Degaldo is here to talk about his life and career

The talented percussionist Ray Delgado has made room in his schedule to share some time with us and talk about some of the most curious details of his artistic career, which fills us with pride and gratitude in equal measure. The founder of the Ray Delgado Project has many interesting things to say, and we are more than willing to listen.

Ray playing the bongo — Ray Delgado playing the bongo live

Ray’s inspirations to become an artist

Ray grew up in a family with deep Puerto Rican roots and was raised between Puerto Rico and New York because his parents constantly moved from one place to another, which made him feel very fortunate because he was being formed between two cultures that allowed him to listen to all kinds of music. In his time, radio remained extremely popular, so this was his vehicle to travel just by listening to certain songs.

Music in English came from the United States and Europe, while music in Spanish came from Cuba, Venezuela, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, Jamaica, and many other countries. Delgado was exposed to all genres, but as a New Yorker, the one that resonated the most with him was salsa and the atmosphere that it brings with it. In fact, he remembers having the joy of seeing the Machito Orchestra, Johnny Pacheco, Héctor Lavoe, Willie Colón, Pete Conde, and many others live.

These great exponents were the ones who sparked off the young man’s desire to pursue music at some point, but his father did not like the idea at all, as he saw the men in this business as womanizers, drunks, and irresponsible. Obviously, no father wants his son to end up like that, so Ray had to wait to become a responsible adult with a steady job to finally realize his aspirations as a kid.

Ray and his father — Ramón Delgado Castro holding his son Ray Delgado and his brother when they were babies

It all started when some older men invited him to play with them, so he found an old bongo drum he kept in his closet and accepted the offer without a second thought.

That was the point of departure for him to play with many other bands in New York, and his consistent work led him to want to be better, to study hard and prepare himself much more.

Ray’s music education

Ray studied at the East Harlem Music School founded by legendary musician Johnny Colón in Manhattan, and focused on timbales with teacher Ray Cruz, but he left the instrument aside for a while when he moved back to Puerto Rico. When returning from the Island of Enchantment, he enrolled at the Harbor Conservatory for the Performing Arts. He also studied with Professor George Delgado, who is the current conguero for the Spanish Harlem Orchestra. He describes him as an excellent teacher and musician from whom he learned so much.

Additionally, he had the support of many musician friends who also helped him and taught him many things that are not learned in an educational institution, including Luis Rivera, Radamés Rojas, Eric Rivera, and many others. Close contact with other artists and groups made him see that many sounded exactly the same and there was little variety, so he decided to form his own orchestra.

In this way, he also learned percussion, which is the area by which he is best known today.

Joe and Ray — Joe Bataan and Ray Delgado

Ray Delgado Project’s birth

Driven by the lack of musical variety in his environment, he wanted to create his own musical project that included vibraphone, percussion, piano, bass, and vocalist. It all started with a workshop for musicians offered by Ray himself in a community room in the building where he lived and he was allowed to use it. After having played and experimented with different styles, the group was getting smaller until all the musicians who signed up ended up leaving.

From there, at every show and opportunity he had to meet new musicians, he would ask for their numbers to recruit them and achieve a chemistry and combination, resulting in the sound he wanted. Ray was in that process from 2009 until now. About three years ago, in 2023, he finally got what he was looking for.

This group was called Ray Delgado Project, which takes up a huge amount of time and effort. However, the musician says that the New York where his youth was spent, which offered lots of places to go dancing, no longer exists, so there is not much work as back then.

Today, they play many covers of great hits from the 1970s, but they add their own touch to stand out with completely new arrangements. Not so long ago, they released their new version of “Lo Que Traigo es Sabroso,” a hit by Eddie Palmieri, and adapted it to their own style and arrangements. It can be found on Spotify and the main digital platforms.

Ray and his orchestra — Ray Fuentes (piano), Abraham Saenz (bass), Danny Sieber (vibraphone), Ray Delgado (director and bongo), Rhadames ”Randy” Rojas (lead vocals) Izzy Diaz (congas), and José ”Cheo” Colón (timbales)

Ray is so happy with what he has achieved so far with their orchestra that ensures that when God calls him, he will be calm and happy to have been able to play and make audiences dance during his lifetime. God willing, we wish him many more years playing with the Ray Delgado Project, enjoying life and bringing joy to those who have the pleasure of listening to him.

Willie Colón The “Architect of Salsa” Enters Immortality

February 21, 2026, will be etched into the history of Latin music as the day the “street trombone” fell silent to become an eternal echo.

A Sorrowful Farewell: February 2026

After several days of uncertainty and reports regarding his delicate health, the passing of William Anthony Colón Román was confirmed in New York City at the age of 75.

Willie Colón, the Architect of Salsa, Passes into Immortality

Producer, trombonist, visionary. He was the architect of a sound that broke the mold and redefined salsa from New York for the entire world.

With his aggressive trombone, his innovative musical concepts, and his leadership within the historic Fania All-Stars, he marked an era that can never be repeated.

The musician, who had already shown signs of physical frailty following his retirement from the stage in 2023, suffered severe respiratory complications that kept him hospitalized during his final days.

Iconic figures like Rubén Blades and the entire Fania family have expressed their grief, noting that we haven’t just lost a musician, but the “Malo” (The Bad Boy) who revolutionized the visual and sonic identity of Latinos in New York.

A Legacy of Rebellion and Sophistication

Unlike other bandleaders, Willie Colón didn’t just make music; he told cinematic stories. From his early days with Héctor Lavoe to his era of social consciousness with Rubén Blades, Colón transformed salsa into a vehicle for urban narrative.

With his aggressive trombone playing, innovative musical concept, and leadership within the historic Fania All-Stars

Innovation: He was responsible for putting the trombone at center stage, creating that “heavy,” raw sound that defined the Bronx.
Identity: Through his iconic album covers (emulating FBI “Wanted” posters), he constructed the mystique of the Latin anti-hero.

His Eternal Anthems

Willie Colón’s catalog is the backbone of every party and social reflection in Latin America. Among his most remembered tracks, more relevant today than ever, are:

Song	Significance
El Gran Varón	A milestone in social lyrics regarding identity and redemption.
Idilio	The most romantic and melodic facet of his mature era.
Pedro Navaja	The ultimate expression of narrative salsa produced alongside Blades.
Gitana	A classic of sentiment and rhythmic fusion.

Beyond the Trombone: Activism and Service

In his later years, Willie Colón’s life was also defined by his work offstage. He served as an activist, a community leader in New York, and held positions in organizations advocating for Hispanic rights. His life was a testament to the fact that art and social commitment can walk hand-in-hand.

Producer, trombonist, visionary. Architect of a sound that broke molds and redefined salsa from New York to the world.

The Centennial on the Horizon

Though the Maestro has physically departed in 2026, his office and family have made it clear that his music will live on. Releases of unedited material and tribute concerts are expected as we pave the road toward the centennial of his birth in 2050.

“Time passes, and I am left unable to speak to you” Willie Colón.

His music will continue to speak for him on every corner where a trombone sounds and in every heart that feels the pulse of urban salsa.

His talent was more than rhythm: it was identity, the barrio, resistance, and living history. Today, we don’t just say goodbye to a musician; we say goodbye to a pillar, a North Star, and an entire chapter of our Latin culture.

Anecdote:

Willie Colón had a notorious incident in Medellín in 1985 when he refused to perform at the Iván de Bedout Coliseum because the promoters of “Rumba Producciones” failed to pay the agreed amount. Police arrested him along with 13 of his musicians, and they were detained for two days at the Belén neighborhood police station.

The audience, who had waited for hours, grew unruly, leading to riots that resulted in six injuries and significant property damage. This episode inspired the song “Especial No. 5,” which narrates Colón’s experience inside cell number five of that station.

Willie Colón had an incident in Medellín in 1985

Special Contribution by Julio Cesar Galindo Alarcón (Lima, Peru)

A posthumous tribute to the great Willie Colón (1950-2026): The greatest disciple of Mon Rivera by his own admission and today a legend of our passionate salsa.

Willie Colón: From “Classic Urban Salsa” to “Symphonic Salsa”

His musical production clarifies and proves that “salsa” does not only originate from Cuban and Puerto Rican rhythms, but also from American, Brazilian, and other Latin influences.

When Willie produced and recorded his 1977 instrumental-only album, El Baquiné de Angelitos Negros, he expanded the orchestral lineup to include violins, saxophone, flute, cello, and trumpet. While the work had little commercial success and went largely unnoticed during his triumphant career, it served as more than just a platform for his “salsa” fusions with Jazz, Funk, Soul, and R&B. It was the starting point for producing grander orchestral arrangements with a larger number of musicians, thus becoming the precursor to what is now known as “Symphonic Salsa.”

Four years after this beginning, in 1981, this “Symphonic Salsa” reached its peak when Willie released his second solo album, Fantasmas dedicated to and motivated by the loss of his younger sister, Cindy. The album included a track he composed, with musical arrangements by Luis Cruz, titled “Toma Mis Manos” (Take My Hands).

This piece, dealing with the somber theme of death, is considered by this author (due to the quality of the composition and the fabulous “Symphonic” orchestration) to be an authentic and grand masterpiece of “Classic Salsa.” It blends Funk, Soul, R&B, and Bossa Nova with Willie’s excellent vocals, serving as a spectacular prelude to that other legendary, yet often overlooked, symphonic track recorded in 1991 by the “Canary of Carolina,” the great Lalo Rodríguez: “El niño, el hombre, el soñador y el loco.”

To conclude, with the immense pain that his departure brings, I accompany this tribute with the aforementioned song: “Toma Mis Manos,” an unforgettable composition by the recent legend of our “salsa” the great Willie Colón, famously known as “The Bad Boy of the Bronx.”

The legendary musician and his wife Julia Colón were married for decades and share three children ( — The legendary musician and his wife Julia Colón were married for decades and share three children

Also Read: The legacy of Leopoldo Pineda, the ambassador of the trombone in La Maquinaria Fania All Stars

Manhattan Latin Music by Jon Horn

In the year after the big war ended, a terrific hurricane tore across the island, and in the town of Santa Barbara de la Loma the Catholic church was destroyed, but the modest compound of Senora– devotee of the seven powers and gifted daughter of Yemaya, spirit of the seas – went untouched by the storm. The people of Santa Barbara were not surprised. They called Senora “La Poderosa,” the powerful one, for she could heal the sick better than doctors, break and cast spells – but only for good – and see beyond the now and here. Believers in the natural religion came weekly to the walled yard behind her neat, two-room bohio to praise the mighty spirits who might possess them as they danced and chanted to the inspired drumming of the tumbadores.

On the next full moon, Senora called her gente to a special midnight ceremony. Dressed as always in immaculate white robe and turban, smoking a long cigar and swigging from a flask of rum, she told the assembly that Hate was hard at work everywhere, and worse things than hurricanes or even the war just fought were soon to come. Now they must all concentrate their prayerful energies and send goodness in the guise of music to an evil world. The native rhythms of their island, produced from the potent mix of slaves, colons, and indios, could bring people of all kinds and colors together. As dark hands beat out on taut skins a deep, steady roll like distant thunder, Senora called up into the moonlit sky: “May the babies born of Mambo be bringers of justice and peace where there is none! Go, my Mambo! Go now and work your musical magic at the center of the biggest city in the strongest nation on the earth!”

Damaso Pérez performing Latin music — The King of Mambo Damaso Pérez Pardo performing live

And the Mambo went and did all this, and much, much more…

Story goes that a certain midtown Manhattan dancehall was dying a slow death at the tag end of the Big Band era, just after the so-called “Good War.” The guy who was managing this musical venue (maybe for the Mob) was bemoaning the lack of customers to a canny Broadway promoter who poked a sallow finger at the bemoaner and said “Hey! If you don’t mind spics and
niggers in the joint, I can fill it six nights a week!” “At this point I don’t mind if it’s spics, niggers, or little green men!” “Done deal!”

Twas the season of Jackie Robinson “integrating” baseball’s major leagues. Smart money knew that American apartheid couldn’t last forever, at least not overtly. And where else would the winds of change blow first and hardest but in the Empire City, aka Nueva York? So the Palladium opened with a hot mambo policy, the best Afro-Cuban bands were hired, and lines formed around the block. Harlem and Spanish Harlem were now welcome in a big midtown venue. And not only “spics” and “niggers” showed up, but “wops” and yids” as well, the bridge-and-tunnel “mamboniks.” The word spread, and whitebread cafe-society mavericks came to check it out and stayed to shake a tail feather. For the next couple of decades it was the “place to be, thing to do” in NYC, if you wanted to move to and be sent by the best hot Latin sounds.

Around 1954/’55, the mambo crested in the Pop consciousness, with “Papa Loves Mambo,” “Mambo Italiano,” and “What The Heck is the Mambo?” on the mainstream Hit Parade. Perez Prado even took “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White” to Number One on the charts. But the real mambo, cha-cha- cha, guaracha, charanga, and son stayed underground, a niche thing, ethnic dance
music for Manhattan Latins and the cool cognoscenti. Raided and harassed by authorities who didn’t cotton to Mambo’s miscegenating powers, the Palladium lost its liquor license in the early ’60s and closed for good in ’66, just as the “new breed” wave of Latin Soul & Bugalu was making noise on the mean streets. And the beat goes on…

The Mamboniks were cool-looking Italian & Jewish guys & gals, out of high school but not in college, who hung out around Dubrow’s on the Hiway. If one of them had a dented sportscar or an old but flashy convertible, they’d congregate around the car at the curb, the dash radio loudly broadcasting Dick“Ricardo” Sugar’s mambo show of an evening, trying out hip-swinging cha-cha steps, casually dap guys and foxy girls in tight skirts; and tho the guys were not really hoods, they’d hang with future felons down the poolroom sometimes, and push a little weed to the hipper highschoolers, who whispered that these guys rolled queers in the Village for bucks and kicks…. but the big kick for the Mamboniks was the Latin Kick, hitting the Palladium at least once a week to hobnob with Ricans and Cubans and dap Harlem dudes and debs, all dressed up in continental suits and cocktail gowns, moving & grooving to the hot, blaring rhythms of Tito Puente and Tito Rodriguez, Eddie Palmieri, Joe Cuba, Orquesta Aragon, the La Playa Sextet, and many more smokin’ outfits who played en clave. Rest of the time they hung outside the cafeteria almost
under the BMT El, hanging on the Hiway but vibing they were too hip for the Hiway, still living at home in Brooklyn only ’cause it was free, but definitely on the way out and on up – or so it appeared to those a few years younger, hung up in mundane Midwood and Madison scenes. I didn’t really know the Mamboniks, but I knew who they were (the distance between 15 and 18 being even greater than between the Hiway and Broadway): one of them would fall with the felons and do time… another would marry his little sexpot cha-cha partner and go into the restaurant business downtown… yet another would become a musician/dope dealer, accent on the dope dealer. I only glimpsed these Mamboniks passing by Dubrow’s, but they called me (while ignoring me) to a more magical city than the one I knew as yet.

Tito Puente performing Latin music — Tito Puente performing ”Oye Como Va”

Jose de la Subway Speaks of Working the Mountains

There’s one or two agents book all the bands, and you best not get on their bad side! This guy I know from El Barrio, he plays timbales – he’s no Puente but he’s still young – he pulled me into this gig, subbing for the guy who was too fucked up on duji to make the job. We all meet at the bus terminal near the Dixie Hotel on the Deuce. Takes a couple hours to get up there and it’s real country, you can smell the trees! There’s these big Jewish hotels, they all book one Latin band to alternate with whatever square Pop band they got, and of course the biggest hotels get the big name bands and the smaller hotels get the cheaper bands who sometime hire kids just breaking in who look eighteen and can play some but don’t expect no union scale. You got this shack full of bunk beds to crash in, you eat leftover childrens’ meals – if there’s a hip Rican or Soul working in the kitchen you may get extras – and they don’t want to see your face around the place till showtime. Maybe they let you take a rowboat out on the lake, but you best stay away from the pool till you’re sent out there to play a cocktail set. They always call it an ‘Olympic-sized pool’ even if it’s four foot
deep! All these white chicks are out there in bikinis trying to get as dark as the people they don’t want in the pool with them. You play some cha-chas poolside late in the afternoon and you get to check out these chicks, some of them are hot, some give you the eye, but you wear shades and keep a stone face, and of course you’re high ’cause everybody be smokin’ weed in the band, that’s all you do, and you keep the job by keeping your distance from the hotel’s clientele. Some hustling bands be doubling, tearing around those mountain roads from one little hotel to another, making two jobs a night, wearing those ridiculous rhumba shirts with the big ruffled sleeves. After the last set everybody goes to eat and hang at Corey’s Chinese Restaurant in Liberty. When it’s Mambo Night at the Raleigh you sit in. And if you fuck up, or when the contract’s over, you’re back on the Hound to the Deuce, and you don’t have much loot to show for it. You’re paying your dues, you’re getting experience.

Musically, the late ’50s/early ’60s were dynamic times in NYC. Monk with Trane at the Five Spot, Ornette Coleman introducing “the new thing” aka “Free Jazz,” the hard-bop funk of “Moanin’” by Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers, “Kind of Blue” by Miles, Trane’s classic quartet coming into its own with “Giant Steps” and “My Favorite Things.” And the Folk boomlet peaking in the Village
with Baez and Dylan, Paxton, Van Ronk, Ochs, and many more. R&B was in a slump and the Top 40 sucked bigtime… but over in Brooklyn and the Bronx, a new generation of Nuyoricans was coming of age, and tho they still dug the Afro-Cuban sounds, the mambo and the cha-cha-cha belonged to the (recent) past, so they were experimenting: Bronx Pachanga was revved-up charanga… trombones lent a harder edge to a conjunto like Eddie Palmieri’s La Perfecta… and “Latin Soul” was Doowop (a big influence en la calle) mated with the bolero feel and the bongo/congas beat. Joe Cuba knew he was onto something when his “To Be With You” (a bolero in English) became a street fave circa ’62/’63. Ace Cuban conguero Mongo Santamaria had a crossover hit of sorts with a jazzy horn chart on “Watermelon Man.” And Ray Barretto charted nationally with a speeded-up charanga featuring a streetwise Spanish rap superimposed: “El Watusi.” The times they were a-changin’ in the barrio. Joe Bataan was “Singin’ Some Soul.” Willie Colon was getting “Jazzy.” Eddie Palmieri’s hot, eight-minute jam on “Azucar Pa’ Ti” was a breakthru, played in its entirety on the radio by Symphony Sid and even by Dick Ricardo Sugar. Pete Rodriguez came on strong with the irresistible “I Like It Like That”… and the Latin Bugalu was a mid-’60s sub-genre (e.g. Johnny Colon’s “Boogaloo Blues”). But by the early ’70s, the newly branded “Salsa” hyped by Fania Records (the Latin Motown) prevailed, and Latin Soul’s swan songs were sung by Ralfi Pagan (“Make It With You”), and Paul Ortiz (“Tender Love & Sweet Caresses,” produced by “Subway Joe” Bataan). Musical artifacts remain, but as for the vibe, “You hadda be there, folks!”

That Latin Thing

The Afro-Cuban sounds, and the extensions and variations on those templates by their New York inheritors, were the hottest and coolest Latin sounds. Musicians have big ears, and there was always cross-fertilization between the seemingly segregated genres of Latin and Jazz (eventually producing – wait for it – Latin Jazz). So why aren’t more jazz buffs, and other musically savvy civilians, into the rich “Spanish Tinge” heritage? (They’ve always been into it in their own way down in Norlins.) Different languages as well as divergent styles, plus the commercial priorities of bottom-line execs who package musical product, perpetuate musically exclusive marketing niches, even unto today. But many stateside Jazz greats especially groovitated towards the Latin
thing. Dizzy Gillespie with Chano Pozo creating Cubop… Charlie Parker’s jams with Machito… Cal Tjader with Eddie Palmieri… Herbie Hancock’s “Watermelon Man” definitively rendered by Mongo Santamaria: these are some of the finest fruits of the Jazz + Latin marriages, and there have been many more in recent years. Yet the hardcore tipico and original classics are still all but unknown to generations of US Americans, and that’s a lowdown dirty shame.

Tio Jonny to the rescue! If you dig rhythms that won’t let you sit or stand still, or love to love a great love song, I’ve got two Latin strains to introduce into your musical bloodstream: superlative slow jams of yearning, ecstasy, betrayal, and loss in the best bittersweet boleros… and hip-shaking, toe-tapping dance classics of musica caliente. Maestro Cachao wasn’t just boasting when he titled one of his signature jam sessions in miniature “Como mi ritmo no hay dos.” There’s nothing quite like this Latin thing. But don’t take my word for it. Go check it out for yourselves, sis & bro!

Joe Bataan singing Latin music — Joe Bataan singing ‘ ‘Gypsy Woman” some years ago

Musica Caliente 101

Salsa dura? Salsa Brava? Salsa romantica? Such consumer designations are so much caca de toro. To quote el rey Tito Puente, “Salsa is something you put on your food.” As a brand, “Salsa” moved a lot of units for Fania and other smaller labels in their heyday. But it was still music with Afro-Cuban roots, refined (or, purists might aver, debased) by Puerto Ricans and Nuyoricans, as insiders and aficionados well know. It was a music all about rhythm (we’ll consider the beautiful boleros shortly), pegged to the clave beat, where the Afro drums could sing melodiously while the Euro piano, violins, and horns remade themselves into rhythm instruments ( the repetitive, tension-building keyboard montunos, twin charanga fiddles, or twin trombones).

As the music morphed from Havana to New York, it got faster and louder (como no?), but the rhythms certainly didn’t cool down, tho they could sound hot and cool at the same time when vibes were featured, as in the ’50s party classic “Chop Suey Mambo” by Alfredito (Al Levy) or on many jams by T.P., Joe Cuba, or Latin-converso Cal Tjader. Anyone who felt this music in their bodies and souls (which are most definitely not separated in this art) would know this was musica caliente – and, as Ray Barretto titled one of his best workouts: “Que Viva la Musica.”

Say you’ve heard some of the great old school sounds and want to hear more? Tio Jonito is going to start you off with a sampler of the best (or at least some of my favorites) from the great days of this musica caliente, sometime in the late ’40s on into the ’70s. You go online and find these smokers on my list and you’ll not only get a little musical education but you’ll swing your butt off and have a ball. Vaya!

Orq. Casino de la Playa w/Miguelito Valdes: “Bruca Manigua”
Arsenio Rodriguez Orq.: “Dame un Cachito pa’ Huele”
Machito & his Afro-Cubans: “Tanga”
Chano Pozo: “El Pin-Pin” (nice later version by El Gran Combo)
Los Astros: “Que Lindo Yambu”
Arcano y sus Maravillas: “Rico Melao”
Sonora Matancera w/Celia Cruz: “Caramelos”
Sexteto La Playa: “Jamaiquino”
Randy Carlos: “Smoke” (“Humo”)
Fajardo y sus Estrellas: “Ay! Que Frio” (+ jazzy ’70s cover by Ocho)
Cortijo y su Combo w/Ismael Rivera: “El Negro Bembon”
Orquesta Aragon: “Caimitillo y Maranon”
Cachao y su Ritmo: “Malanga Amarillo”
Chappotin y sus Estrellas w/Miguelito Cuni: “Alto Songo”
Mongo Santamaria: “Afro Blue” “Para Ti”
Mongo Santamaria w/La Lupe: “Canta Bajo”
Tito Puente: “Oye Como Va” “Ran Kan Kan”
Eddie Palmieri & Cal Tjader: “Picadillo”
Tito Rodriguez & Orq.: “Mama Guela” “Ave Maria Morena”
Joe Cuba Sextet w/Cheo Feliciano: “El Raton”

Mon Rivera: “Lluvia con Nieve”
Orquesta Broadway: “Como Camino Maria”
Ray Barretto: “Cocinando”
Pete “Conde” Rodriguez w/Johnny Pacheco Orq.: “Azuquita Mami”
Willie Colon Orq. w/Hector LaVoe: “Abuelita”
Eddie Palmieri w/Charlie Palmieri: “Vamanos pa’l Monte”

Pete, Celiz, and Tito performing Latin music — Pete El Conde Rodríguez, Tito Puente, and Celiz Cruz performing ”Qué Bueno Baila Usted”

Boleros 101

Boleros are Latin love songs, and the best are equal to any operatic aria, Broadway show-stopper, or Pop ballad, especially those written and sung from the 1940s through the ’60s, the era of the bolero. Behind even the slowest bolero there’s a rhythmic roll (maintained by bongos, congas, or light timbales taps), analogous to the roll of “r” in spoken Spanish. Can’t abide musica romantica? The bolero, friend, is not for you. Latin America – notably Cuba, Mexico, and Puerto Rico – turned out great boleristas in the epica de oro, and the tunes they sang were world-class, true standards which sound just as strong today as ayer. But leave me not wax rapturous; rather let me share some of my fave boleros with you, and point you YouTubeward to hear them all.

Beny More: “Como Fue” “Hoy Como Ayer”
Olga Guillot: “Mienteme” “Tu Me Acostumbraste”
Trio Los Panchos: “Nosotros” “Sabor a Mi” “Los Dos”
Vicentico Valdes: “Tus Ojos” “La Montana”
Tito Rodriguez: “Inolvidable” “En La Soledad”
Los Tres Ases: “Delirio” “Estoy Perdido” “El Reloj”
Cheo Feliciano (w/Joe Cuba sextet): “Como Rien” “Incomparable”
La Lupe w/Tito Puente Orq.: “Que te Pedi”

Santos Colon w/Tito Puente Orq.: “Ay Carino”
Armando Manzanero: “Mia”
Los Tres Diamantes: “La Gloria eres Tu”
Javier Solis: “Si Te Olvides (La Mentira)”
Los Tres Caballeros: “La Barca” “Regalame Esta Noche”
Los Tres Reyes: “No Me Queda Mas”
Pedro Infante: “Contigo en la Distancia” “No Me Platiques Mas”
Jacaranda Castillon: “La Gata Bajo La Lluvia”

Oscar D’ León. Confessions by Oswaldo Ponte by William Briceño Part II

Latin America / Venezuela / Caracas

“Continuing the musical biography of Oscar D’ León. He moved on to new horizons, new learnings, difficult experiences, and decisions, as life always holds a wide variety of surprises over time. One of those changes was his breakup with Dimensión Latina due to various internal group problems.

Photo 1: Oscar D' León — Photo 1: Oscar D’ León

Oscar’s departure caused issues for the group, as several of their scheduled performances in other countries were canceled, and over time, they lost audience, leading most of their members to split up and leave. Nevertheless, the group managed to carry on successfully but without the unique touch or ‘sazón’ that Oscar D’ León provided.

After leaving Dimensión Latina, Oscar ingeniously created La Salsa Mayor in 1976 and was able to release his first discography with his new group, thanks to the record label TH, which provided it because they were very interested in his new project, naming it ‘Con bajo y to’.’ From that moment, Oscar knew that he could consolidate himself with this group or any other, as his exceptional and unparalleled talents, so much originality, had never been witnessed”

“In any generation of Venezuelan artists. He also created another group called ‘La Crítica’ with the purpose that if any member of the Salsa Mayor Group was absent, one of them would substitute. However, the orchestra ‘La Salsa Mayor’ lasted only 4 years due to a strong disagreement Oscar had with his band on stage because the songs played during those two performances ‘were not accepted,’ leading to the closure of ‘Salsa Mayor.’ From that moment, he began to practice with his orchestra ‘La Crítica’ before his performances in Curaçao, where his songs, ‘Suavecito,’ ‘No ha pasado nada,’ served as a way to allude that everything had been overcome.”

“With this group, he achieved significant success. From that era, Oscar D’ León was known as the leading artistic figure in the country and on the American continent, with his music being heard in various homes in Venezuela and other Latin American countries. During that time, he traveled throughout the Latin American continent, the Caribbean islands, and the United States. From that moment, he leveraged his figure as he ventured into artistic promotion. He did so with Daniel Santos, Héctor Lavoe, El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico, and Celia Cruz.

If we have to mention which country Oscar liked or idolized the most, it was Cuba, because ever since he was very young, he loved the music played there, which over the years underwent various transformations in different stages, such as ‘La inmortal guaracha Celia Cruz’ which brought glory to the island; ‘la sonora Matancera’ carried the name of Martí’s land around the world; ‘Dámaso Pérez Prado,’ among other artists who contributed to the origin of Cuban music.”

“When Oscar D’ León first visited Cuba, it was an unforgettable experience and held extraordinary significance not only for the young artist but for the country itself. Its magnitude was such that, first and foremost, the ministers of culture and foreign affairs welcomed him, and every time he performed, large numbers of fans awaited to see and hear him. The respect and admiration for him were immense. In fact, this book mentions that ‘Cuban music,’ among other things, made Oscar D’ León’s existence as an artistic figure and as a person possible.”

Photo 2: Oscar D' León presenting his bibliography — cccc

“For Cubans, Oscar D’ León’s arrival had a profound effect; it was the rebirth of existing music. In short, he rescued it, causing Cuban music, ‘son,’ the central show, and entertainment venues to become their activities for relaxation and fun.

Oswaldo Ponte, in his research, mentions that when he looked for everything related to Oscar D’ León, there was immense admiration for him. Everyone he interviewed, even if they knew he was his manager and his biographer accompanied him, always said incredible things about Oscar. He not only rescued Cuban ‘son’ but also taught them to dance Cuban music, opening the minds and perspectives of Cubans, as Cuban ‘son’ continued to be known internationally. Everyone mentions what a good musician he is, that they can’t believe he isn’t Cuban and has that ‘sazón’ (flavor/charisma).

He was famous not only in Cuba but also in other countries. An example of this was Oscar’s participation in the Rome Festival when he sang a song by Adalberto. Mr. Adalberto Álvarez passed backstage and commented: ‘Cuba will never be able to repay Oscar for what he has done for Cuban music. He has kept it alive; if it hadn’t been for him, for Johnny Pacheco, for Celia Cruz, for La Sonora Ponceña and others who took it upon themselves to keep ‘son’ alive outside our country’… ‘and of all of them, the fundamental leader was Oscar D’ León because he is the most connected to authentic Cuban musical roots.'”

“In short, every time Oscar goes out to sing and dance, he is representing Cubans. For Cubans, dancing is almost a ritual. In 1950, they danced ‘son,’ ‘danzón,’ ‘mambo,’ ‘chachachá,’ ‘rumba,’ and other dances, some of which lasted a very short time, such as ‘dengue,’ ‘monzambique,’ ‘pilón,’ ‘carioca’; and others transcended time, like ‘conga’ and ‘rumba.’ Salsa is the continuation of, or the same as, ‘son,’ which can be danced with the same style or with different styles.

Photo 3: Oscar D' León in concert — Photo 3: Oscar D’ León in concert

Oswaldo Ponte began his promoter plan by hiring figures, among whom was Oscar D’ León. Becoming a serious entertainment promoter, he took the risk of doing it internationally (outside Venezuela) where he bought a contract from Guillermo Arena to present Celia Cruz with La Sonora Matancera. He also partnered with Juan Caravallo and managed to present the biggest show in Higuerote, Venezuela; with this great step, he was becoming a potential successful entrepreneur in international shows.”

“In 1983, he hired Oscar for 3 performances with ‘Roberto Blades,’ two at the Ávila Hotel and one at San Jacinto Park (both in Venezuela). At that time, Oscar was returning from Cuba, and with a new event, Oswaldo, upon seeing the show, pondered the difference between the two artists.

The Panamanian star was well-managed by his team. However, when it came to judging which was the better show, it was Oscar D’ León’s. When Ponte went to talk with him, he proposed becoming his manager on the condition that Oscar follow his instructions, as he always directed everything, which Oscar accepted. From that moment, many things changed not only artistically but also personally, offering the public not just Oscar D’ León and his orchestra, but Oscar D’ León himself, giving more charm and charisma to his audience.

One of the challenges he had to face was a stagnation in record sales. His new record productions weren’t taking off, so he decided to rely on television. Venezuela was both a recipient and a transmitter country, so his performances were broadcast on different television channels that gave great musical importance, such as ‘Siempre en Domingo,’ which covered the center and north of the American continent, and ‘Sábado Gigante,’ which covered South America, thus giving him international exposure.

One of his best and most unforgettable collaborations was with singer Celia Cruz, who was a great friend of Oscar’s. They participated in many events, one of which was in 1993, where Ralph Mercado did what he called ‘The Perfect Combination,’ which consisted of combining stars for public performances.

Participants included Oscar D’ León, Celia Cruz, Marc Anthony, La India from New York, Tito Nieves, Tony Vega, Cheo Feliciano, José Alberto El Canario, and Domingo Quiñones, of which the most recommended songs were ‘El Son de Celia y Oscar’ and ‘Vivir lo nuestro’ by Marc Anthony and La India. At that time, Oscar had left the TH label and was now with Ralph Mercado; his colleagues were Tito Puente, Celia Cruz, Sergio George, Cheo Feliciano, Tito Nieves, La India, José Alberto El Canario, and other significant stars.

There are many other details and more events up to the present day, but it would be too much to explain in one article. What is very clear is that Oscar D’ León has conquered countless goals in his life, and we can all do the same in the different areas in which we operate, if we set our minds to it with determination and an iron will.

Photo 4: Oscar D' León and his bibliography — Photo 4: Oscar D’ León and his bibliography

To learn more about this, we recommend reading ‘Oscar D’ León, Confesiones De Oswaldo Ponte’ by William Briceño, published by Fundación Simón Bolívar.”