Political Prisoners of the Empire  MIAMI 5      

     

C U L T U R E

Havana. December 14, 2005

Arsenio and his son combo

BY RAFAEL LAM—Special for Granma International—

THE son combos have reached their 65th anniversary. According to many researchers, it culminated in 1940 when, with the Arsenio Rodríguez Combo, this instrumental form attained its finest harmonic qualities in performance.

The proof of its enduring quality can be found in dance music in Cuba and throughout the Americas, on the margin of possible non-determining replacements or additions to the essence of the sound achieved by the ensemble. At the end of the 50s and early 60s Arsenio himself would add to it instruments such as pans, flute, sax and guiro to the original sound.

Like many other musicians he experimented in the 1930s when the sextets and septets had already passed their peak. “I thought that the septet, with trumpet, guitar and tres lacked the necessary harmony and I added three trumpets to harmonize with the metal section. I also incorporated piano and drumming with my brother Kike. I was looking for a more powerful sound for the larger dancehalls and outdoor spaces like El Polar. They called me the Chambelona Crazy Guy but the following year when the combos came into fashion, I wasn’t quite so crazy,” Arsenio stated in the Bohemia magazine in 1952.

In addition to all that, Arsenio was giving dominance to voices, according to David F. García, he was accustomed to using two first voices and a second to obtain his group’s vocal sound. He imprinted an African force to the combo’s “sound motor.” In order to record the musical concepts and intelligence of Arsenio with the combo, we took some statements from his closest musicians and family members.

“I began with Arsenio,” says Rubén González, piano man, “in 1942 he was living near my apartment. He went by and heard me with his prodigious ear. All of us who worked in his combo received his knowledge, these sound groupings were veritable music schools. The Cuban music conservatoires were in the street, via the oral tradition, from which music took nourishment throughout the centuries. He was the king of the clave, that was his concept for facilitating the steps of the dancers, which is the essence of son. Arsenio played in a slow rhythm, seeking stability and security for the dancers.”

Another of Arsenio’s brilliant pianists. Lilí (Luis) Martínez, worked with the ensemble from 1945-1950 and informed journalist Mayra A. Martínez in 1983: “If I hadn’t played with Arsenio, I definitely wouldn’t have known son so well. I learned at his side, I was his arranger. When he was inspired, whatever the hour he would call me so that he wouldn’t forget the composition. He would sing it to me and say in his rough voice: ‘When will that be ready?’ I would arrange it without piano, wherever I was and in a few hours the composition was there. Arsenio never insinuated to me that there was anything he didn’t like.”

Arsenio’s brother, Raúl (Papá Quila) was the combo’s bongo man. “Arsenio wasn’t easy to swallow, he was very demanding, he had a very precise school that he made everyone go through. When somebody went out of key, he had a natural knowledge, an extremely talented ear. He had his thesis of music and maintained it with his idées fixes. The old-guard musicians were like that, they died with their boots on. They had to wait for many years before history gave them the right. He used to say to me: ‘You plant a sapling and other people enjoy the tree.’ When he arrived in the United States the Latino musicians went along to copy him, steal his tricks. They weren’t going to dance, they were constantly copying him. That was how the so-called Latin salsa emerged, along with Ignacio Piñeiro and Miguel Matamaoros.”

 In the 1952 Bohemia interview, Arsenio casually commented that at the end of his radio performances, Pérez Prado, Bebo Valdés and René Hernández (three geniuses) would ask him: “What music is that that you play with the combo?” They didn’t understand the musical rarity. “A long time later,” Arsenio  stated, “those people began to write mambos and send them to New York and other countries, without me, who invented it, knowing about it.”

Cheché, one his relatives who still lives in Güines, noted that Arsenio was “tireless in rehearsals and performances. He slept little, obliged his musicians to be elegant and vain – a demand of the time – checked out his musicians, touched them to see if their hair was cut properly, with suits and ties.”

According to the Helio Orovio Dictionary his date of birth was August 31, 1911. His registration however, is for August 31, 1913 with the name of Ignacio Arsenio Travieso Scull. Rodríguez was a last name “loaned” for the entry in the Güines Civil Registry.

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