The Intersection of Afro x Cuban
The music, like the history, of Cuba is long and layered from many centuries of migration, both voluntary and forced, and the resulting exchange of cultures on the island. While the island was under the colonial rule of the Spanish empire (from the 1500–1800s), an estimated one million Africans were brought to the island to work as slaves, mostly on tobacco and sugar cane plantations. Many Spaniards, too, immigrated to the island in the 1800s when Cuba, unlike most of continental South America, was still a Spanish colony (as was Puerto Rico). This deep mixture of cultures can be heard in Cuban music, in every genre from the distinctly Cuban rumba to jazz and reggaeton, which bear significant African and Afro-diasporic influence.
““Nothing, as we should know by now, can keep Cuban ingenuity down. Especially when it has to do with its musical culture.” ”
— (Manuel Betancourt, Remezcla)
Rumba, the style of music so associated with Cuba that it was named a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage, developed in the 1800s on the island, where it “represented a space of agency and power for the lowest social classes in the villages” (columbia.edu, translation mine). Historians note that rumba came from the people, mostly of African descent, who lived in the pueblos (smaller towns and villages), unlike the commercially popular genres of salsa and son (a slower, less percussion heavy precursor of salsa), which developed in more urban areas. Rumba developed into an “inherently Cuban” musical style because it “resonated with the pueblo [and then] went on to form part of national folklore.” The people recognized it as authentically Cuban because it held “a cultural weight for the majority of the people” (columbia.edu, translation mine, p.22).
Cuba also had a big hand in the evolution of jazz in the US, which came from the African-American population in New Orleans in the early 1900s. Musicians traveled frequently between coastal New Orleans and Havana to play in each others’ cities, and their respective styles mixed with ragtime, blues, and swing to form early jazz (Roberts. Latin Jazz.). From the 1940s all the way to the 1990s, Afro-Cuban artists and groups such as The Trío Matamoros, Machito & His Afro-Cubans, Celia Cruz, Pérez Prado, and Manolito y su Trabuco left a deep impact on jazz, rumba, son, and salsa that carries into the work produced by musicians in the present day.
Buena Vista Social Club, an easy-listening, Afro-Cuban jazz-bolero album from 1996, evolved the genre of jazz on the island into the icon of Cuban music to the world. It was recorded in one week by a multigenerational group of already-famous-in-Cuba musicians, and “today the album’s global sales stand at 8 million, making it the biggest-selling Cuban album in history.” The “album that inspired a thousand salsa dance classes,” effectively reintroduced the U.S. to Cuba as the source of arts and culture it had always been, after decades of cultural separation between the two countries due to government sanctions and embargoes.
Ibrahim Ferrer, the primary voice on many of the tracks on Buena Vista Social Club, and of Afro-Cuban heritage, gained international recognition along with the album’s namesake group. He had been playing music all his life, but finally achieved his dream of touring the world at the rebirth of his music career. In 2000, Ferrer was awarded “Best New Artist” at the Latin Grammys when, at the age of 72, he released his first solo album.
Ibeyi, the performance name of the daughters of Anga Diaz, a legendary percussionist who played on Buena Vista Social Club, and Maya Dagnino, a French-Venezuelan singer, is an example of a current musical act exploring a deeper connection to Afro-Latin heritage, while pursuing new depths of alternative sound as well. The twin sisters are based in France but of Afro-Cuban heritage, and have caught the ears of both Cuban and global music communities. They sing in English, French, Spanish, and Yoruba, a West African language that is the ancestral tongue of most Afro-Cubans, and were among the first international artists to play in the country post-embargo at the Musicabana festival in 2016.
Another young and incredibly talented Afro-Cuban musician, Dayme Arocena, wants to bring the rich legacy of her heritage into the present musical climate. Arocena has released two albums and one EP which pull heavily from classic Cuban styles and her Afro-Cuban roots, both musically and thematically. As she said in an interview with Latino music and culture blog, Remezcla:
“What I wish for the most [in Cuba’s future] is more openness, information and freedom of expression, especially in music. Cuban musicians are 50 to 60 years behind, not because of creation, but because of visibility. Everyone is still into Buena Vista Social Club (who I love and respect), but so many things have happened in Cuba, so much creation. Cuba is a musical country.”
Although musicians living in Cuba have been distant from the international music stage, the country has not been starving for talent. In fact, the circumstances have offered unique opportunities for artists. Because of government censorship, musicians have a much more direct line to their listeners and produce music closer to the culture than what might come from a commercialized pop artist. Cuban-American photographer Lisette Poole and filmmaker Brian Chu highlight this in their short documentary, Reggaeton Revolucion, which showcases the vibrant world of underground reggaeton.
“Tu Pum Pum: The Story of Reggaeton,” from writer and all around music-person Eduardo Cepeda, is a series of thoughtful articles on the genre’s history and emergence into global recognition for Remezcla. Cepeda sums up reggaeton as “a transformation of dancehall, hip hop, and reggae en español,” a fully “Afro-diasporic movement” that developed from the sustained cross cultural exchanges of people from the Caribbean islands, the U.S., and the African continent.
The genre shares many similarities to hip hop in the U.S., with both reggaeton and hip hop emerging in majority black, marginalized communities whose form of artistic expression was rejected by the mainstream public as a moral pitfall of hypersexuality and crime. In response to attempted legislation to limit the public’s exposure to reggaeton’s lyrics and visuals, artists in Cuba have utilized the island-wide system of underground file sharing in a farm-to-table/studio-to-audience method of releasing music. Because of this, reggaeton, like hip hop in the US and rumba in Cuba, became an authentic representation of the people because it existed largely in an underground or unofficial capacity.
The recent removal of trade and travel embargoes from the U.S. has connected audiences to projects like Guamparo, the first local Afro-Cuban music label, who released a compilation called AfroRazones in 2017, that showcases the modern manifestations of Afro-diasporic influence in everything from airy son to rap. It has also allowed more Cuban musicians access to international record companies, like Sony Records, which recently signed Jacob Forever, former member of long-time reggaeton standard group Gente de Zona.
As the genre becomes more internationally successful and continues to evolve, authenticity and “blanqueamiento” (whitening) have become a frequent part of the conversation. Lauren Chalk writes in Ventana Latina about reggaeton’s “changing status,” as it becomes more polished, more pop, and does tend to favor the fame of more white artists. Chalk compares the origins of the genre with the faces currently representing it, whose lyrical matter is less street and more pop-romance, part of what has been called the “second generation of reggaeton” or ‘reggaetón romántico.’ The music being produced and the media and commercial attention surrounding it pushes a lighter, Latino image, while “downplaying any dancehall or hip-hop aesthetic which links it more intimately to Afro-Caribbean, Afro-Latin American or African-American cultures,” Chalk argues.
The beginnings of so many African influenced and Afro-Latin genres may have been ignored and undervalued, but in the global climate that Cuban (and all) artists are beginning to find themselves in, musicians have an opportunity to explore and express their identity and heritage in a way inaccessible to artists (and people groups) before them. Artists like Ibeyi and Dayme Arocena are not only drawing upon cultural inspiration, they’re pushing culture and music forward. Reggaeton and hip hop producers are doing the same, challenging the status quo, both within Cuba and without, as Afro-Latin rhythms and beats influence the global mainstream.
It is essential, then, to remember not only the African and Afro-Latin roots of the classic music that comes from Cuba and Latin America at large, but also to pay attention to the musicians producing material now that are purposefully exploring Afro-Caribbean and-Latin identity.
In the words of DJ Unic, a Cuban music producer, “Life and music don’t stop — not for me or anyone else.” All we can do is listen, dance, and try to keep up.
Photos by Sawyer Roque, from her trip to Cuba in 2018. You can see more of her work on her website.
Playlist of all artists mentioned available on theIntersection.co
Originally published at www.theintersection.co.
