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New York Times
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Eddie Palmieri's 13 Essential Songs and Albums
A Nuyorican original, the pianist and bandleader Eddie Palmieri began his career playing in mambo orchestras at the tail end of the Palladium era — named for the Manhattan club on West 52nd Street where crowds flocked to dance to mambo orchestras with robust horn and percussion sections — using his eclectic training on piano to drive dancers to ecstatic heights. Cutting his teeth with bandleaders like Johnny Segui and the mambo king Tito Rodríguez, Palmieri formed his own band, La Perfecta, in the early 1960s. The style he pioneered in those days would be central to the evolution of a music that what would eventually be called salsa. Ironically, Palmieri, who died on Wednesday at 88, like other bandleaders of his era, disliked the term, castigating it as a catchall that obscured foundational Afro-Cuban dance rhythms like son, guaracha, guaguancó, danzón and cha cha cha. Yet La Perfecta had a new twist that helped distinguish the New York style from Cuban music: a two-trombone gut punch provided by the Bronx-born Barry Rogers and the Brazilian-born José Rodrigues. The trombones gave Palmieri's band a salty tone that reflected the grind and glamour of the city's streets and barrios, and he increasingly employed lyrics about social justice, giving salsa its distinctive flavor. Palmieri embraced the counterculture era's strident politics with songs like 'Justicia,' played a famous gig at Sing Sing prison upstate and, departing from salsa protocol, recorded an album called 'Harlem River Drive' with the jazz drummer Bernard Purdie that evoked classics like War's 'The World Is a Ghetto.' He was a pianist driven by Afro-Caribbean percussion while also an acolyte of the music theorist Joseph Schillinger's mathematical approach to composition. After salsa's peak and decline, he made several Latin jazz-themed records and recorded with younger singers like La India and Calle 13's Ilé. He remained committed to New York's Black and Latino community, never losing his love for his beginnings. Here are 13 essential examples of Palmieri's 60-plus years of recorded work. 'Azúcar' From a 1965 recording with his original group, La Perfecta, 'Azúcar' is a hard-driving, jazz-inflected anthem for the nascent sound of salsa. Featuring the brash virtuosity of the Rogers-Rodrigues trombone combo, Ismael Quintana's distinctive vocals, Manny Oquendo's precision percussion and Palmieri's double-time piano pounding, it goes from call-and-response to blissful jam session. Although Celia Cruz sealed the deal years later, Palmieri establishes azúcar (Spanish for sugar, the Caribbean's main export) as Afro-Caribbean music's code word for sonic pleasure. ▶ Listen on Spotify, Apple Music or YouTube 'Que Suene la Orquesta' From the 1965 'Mozambique' album, which trades on late-period mambo with hints of pseudo-bugaloo, this track serves as Palmieri's most potent early calling card. Using the piano as a translator of Afro-Cuban percussion lines, Palmieri furiously sets the pace for a series of conga and timbale solos, while the dual trombones honk like a stream of taxis filled with passengers late for the dance. ▶ Listen on Spotify, Apple Music or YouTube 'El Sonido Nuevo' and 'Bamboléate' with Cal Tjader These mid-60s recordings with the West Coast vibist Cal Tjader are sublime evocations of a largely forgotten moment in Latin music history. The chill of Tjader's Latin-style vibraphone evokes a kind of fever-dream transcendence. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Yahoo
23-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
‘The Goddess Of Goddesses': Queen Of Salsa Celia Cruz Remembered By Emilio Estefan, La India, Randy Malcom and Goyo
Born one hundred years ago in Havana, Cuba, on October 21, 1925, Celia Cruz sang almost before she could talk. The second oldest of 14 children, she could carry a tune at 10 months old, according to her mother, and as a toddler, sang her youngest siblings to sleep. Those bedside moments were the first stage for the woman who would become the single best-known and most influential female figure in the history of Afro Cuban music. By the time she died in 2003 at age 77, Cruz had over 70 albums to her name and had transfixed generations of fans with her mesmerizing stage presence and a signature, rich, expressive contralto that could turn a single word into a masterpiece of a song. More from Billboard The Unstoppable Natti Natasha Talks Tears, Sacrifices and 'Every Moment I Had to Be Strong Even When I Was Breaking Inside' Deltron 3030 to Play Debut Album in Full for 25th Anniversary Tour Sharon Osbourne Calls for Kneecap's Work Visas to Be Revoked After Coachella Set Cruz was recognized worldwide as much for her extravagant flamboyant outfits, tireless work ethic and colorful wigs as for her trademark cry of 'Azúcar!.' But Cruz possessed, above everything, an extraordinary voice. 'Forget about getting her behind a mic,' Marc Anthony once told Billboard. 'She'll turn anybody out.' Indeed, Cruz adamantly refused to lip-sync, even on live TV shows. 'I can't go out there and pretend,' she told Billboard in 2000. 'In Cuba, I worked with a man named Rodrigo Neira, who was the choreographer of the Tropicana. He wanted a singer to sing and a dancer to dance.' Although Cruz's dancing abilities weren't negligible, her voice was incomparable. Cruz's recorded legacy is a veritable history of Latin music, from her days with Cuba's legendary La Sonora Matancera to her highly experimental and avant garde later fare, which even mixed urban music with her salsa beats. Cruz charted until the day she died, and beyond. More than 20 years after her death, she generated 64 million on-demand official streams in the United States in 2024, according to Luminate. Last year, the U.S. Mint released a commemorative Cruz quarter, the only coin that bears the stamp of a Latin artist. The item joins a list of Cruz memorabilia that includes a stamp, a doll, multiple exhibits, merchandise lines and both a TV series and film in the works, among other projects. As a child, Cruz began singing in amateur contests. Her big break came in 1950, when she was called in to replace the lead singer of the legendary La Sonora Matancera, arguably the best salsa band of all time. Cruz gained international acclaim with La Sonora, with whom she remained for 15 years, eventually marrying lead trumpet player Pedro Knight. Following the Cuban revolution, she settled in New York in 1962 and was never allowed to return to her home country. Cruz's career also flourished stateside, first through her association with Tito Puente's Ticco Records and later with Fania Records. Although Cruz remained a popular and venerated figure — she received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1987 — she gained a new legion of followers in 2000 after signing with Sony Music Latin, a label that gave her a star treatment until the day she died. With Sony Latin, Cruz won three consecutive Latin Grammy Awards in 2000, 2001 and 2002. The secret to her perennial success, she told Billboard, was very basic: 'First of all, I take good care of myself. I rest. Second, I plan my shows well. I always try to shape my repertoire around a particular audience. And finally, I'm always changing my outfits, my look onstage.' But at the core of it was her tireless work ethic, and that voice. After being diagnosed with cancer in 2002, Cruz made a final trip to the recording studio in February 2003. She recorded for two months and died in July. This year, Billboard's Latin Women in Music honors Cruz and her extraordinary life not on the anniversary of her death but in the centennial year of her birth. Cruz will posthumously receive the Legend Award at the gala, which will air April 24 at 9 p.m. ET on Telemundo, and be honored with a musical tribute with performances by Ivy Queen, La India and Olga Tañon. Billboard spoke to four people who had personal ties to Cruz. Here are their recollections, in their own words. Celia was someone who was able to bring our music to this country at a time when women weren't really welcomed in the music industry. When she joined forces with Fania and Johnny Pacheco, she showed the world what true talent was. And she never changed her musical essence or who she was. She was such an example of humility, perseverance, talent — my God. She became family to us. I was just starting out as a producer, and my dream was always to work with her. But I didn't offer because we were just getting started. We had met, but we hadn't really talked much yet. One night, we were playing at the Dupont Plaza, and she asked us to sit at her table. It was like talking to a queen. I remember one time we were performing at the Ovni, and we always played 'Quimbara.' She was in the audience, and she came onstage to sing. Our hearts almost burst out of our chests. I had the honor of producing several albums for her. One day she called me and said, 'I don't have a record label anymore.' And I told her, 'I'm going to send you to Sony.' Thank God I called Tommy [Mottola, who] said, 'Don't even worry about it. We've got to sign her.' She went into Sony with so much respect. They were going to give her the boost she needed. She passed away with six No. 1 hits. At the time, there was resistance because most of the artists selling records were men. She was one of the women who proved to the world that women could make everyone dance. She was such an inspiration for Gloria [Estefan]. I think we can all learn something from her. She and Pedro [Knight] were such humble, kind people who taught us so much. When we were recording, she was so professional. She could almost sing live; she practiced her parts, showed up with humility and was always so proud of her Cuban roots. And the love between her and Pedro… It's rare to work with a couple and see them love each other so much for so many years, being such simple, good people with so much talent. She was my great teacher. She always remembered to send birthday cards to everyone. Those little thoughtful gestures. She was like a sister to Gloria. She'd come over to eat at our house and was so funny. She'd wash Pedro's shirts and iron them when they were on tour. I'll never forget when I produced the Latin Grammys [for CBS on 2000] — she had terrible knee pain but got up to sing 'Quimbara' with Ricky [Martin] anyway. No one could tell what she was going through. One day she came to us and said, 'I got the big C.' I had no idea what she meant. She called me to help arrange her burial. She told me, 'I want every fan I have to be able to say goodbye to me.' She wasn't just loved by Cubans — she was loved by the whole world. She left me one of her dresses, shoes and wig as a thank you, along with a beautiful note for me and Gloria. In a way, I feel at peace knowing I was able to help a woman like her, that I could get her signed to Sony. In these times we're living in, when one person shines, we all shine. And she made all of us shine. I met Celia in 1988 through important people in her life. Her nephew was a big fan of mine and he would go see me at the Palladium. He told me he was Celia Cruz's nephew and we didn't believe him. Celia was already a legend. We listened to her music and all the Afro Yoruba-ness around her was really interesting. And of course we all loved La Sonora Matancera. One day, she sent a message through him, saying, 'Muchas benidiciones en tu show.' ('Many blessings on your show.') Then in 1990, a year before I decided to cross over from dance to salsa tropical, I was already collaborating with Tito Puente and Tito arranged for us to meet. We all went to dinner. When I met her, it felt as if we were already family. We spoke about her music, about her. She said she always felt she had a natural ability to sing music with a lot of rhythm. She said, 'One thing I notice about you is you study a lot of jazz, but you have a lot of soul. I'd like you to cross over from dance music and do a salsa album.' We sang with prerecorded TV tracks then, and she said, 'You need to be up there singing with a live band.' She set up a meeting with Ralph Mercado [founder and president of RMM Records, to which Cruz was signed at the time] and said, 'Hey, I want you to sign her.' We were very close. We talked a lot about music, about the hard labor of a woman. We talked about believing in ourselves, being professional and giving 100% to the music. I found it to be very empowering. She used to say, 'Yo soy tu madrina musical ['I'm your music godmother],' and she wanted to officially be my godmother. I hadn't had my first communion, and I needed to be baptized. She baptized me on Feb. 14, which is the day of friendship and love, and it brought a lot of light into my life, which I needed. I came from a very dysfunctional family, but a very praying family. God was always in our lives. I think that's why it meant so much to me to be baptized with Celia and [husband] Pedro Knight [by my side], and because it meant she would always be in my life. And she was. She was really cute and she wrote telegrams. She had an AT&T calling card and boy, did she use it to the fullest. She called from the airport, when she landed, when she was in her room. Because she was so spiritual, she felt she needed to pray with her goddaughter; that was me. She always prayed before her show. We would hold hands and then we'd go up onstage with her. We toured together. Everywhere she traveled she was the goddess of the goddesses. She would walk in first, everybody was waiting for her, and we were like little ducks. All of us, me, Marc [Anthony], Cheo [Feliciano], Oscar [D'León], we were all behind her going to all these beautiful places in Europe. She really believed in us. She thought we were coming with talent to bring light to salsa tropical. Celia was always an icon, a living legend. She had a lot of vocal control and a beautiful vibrato. Pedro helped her a lot. He quit the trumpet to make sure she was ready to get on that stage and sing her heart out. He was a great partner. She was very lucky to have him. In the studio she was a master of great ideas. I gave her a lot of energy, and it was great to have her there with me. She always told me that one of the things she liked about me was that she saw my talent and that I didn't have to wear little outfits. We're here as women, as talented women. She would say, 'Sabes porqué he tenido exito? Porque yo vendo talento, no vendo sexo.' ('You know why I've been successful? Because I sell talent, not sex.') Now, I see what she meant. It's a male-dominated world, and she wanted respect. She liked being on the road. She liked to take her music to different markets, and she loved shopping. Shopping and music, forget about it. Y su cafecito con su azucar. She always tried to encourage the new generation by being positive and working hard. She spoke about the perseverance of hard work, professionalism. Always record, arrive early and have a great orchestra behind you. And all that you get, you give back. The Gente De Zona member on the group recording 'Celia,' which blends two Cruz hits using her original vocals. I knew Celia's work because I studied music in Cuba, but I never got the chance to meet her in person. Since Celia was banned in Cuba, you couldn't hear her on the radio or see her on TV. Celia, Willy Chirino, all those artists were prohibited. She was always a defender of freedom. After recording 'La Gonzadera,' we were trying to figure out how we could use her vocals from 'La Negra Tiene Tumbao' in a song. Her digital session recordings from her last recordings were nowhere to be found, but after 10 years of searching with Omer [Perdillo, her manager], we finally found them. What we did was mix two songs together, closing it out with 'La Negra Tiene Tumbao.' But for us, using her voice — can you imagine? As a kid, I'd hear some of her stuff with my dad through videos that had been leaked. Cuba only had two TV channels, and there was a concert she did, I think in Africa, that somehow got through. People had recorded it and we'd watch it. For us, it was such a point of pride. A Cuban woman who was outside of Cuba, yet so huge in the music world — it seemed impossible to reach that level. When I was little, people told me she was a singer who wasn't allowed in Cuba. When my dad heard the song, he was blown away. He was like, 'How did you pull this off?' And I told him, 'Dad, they gave me permission.' This whole story is so nostalgic for every Cuban, given the political situation. Everything feels so deep. In our country, there's so much music, so much art, but it dies there. It's heartbreaking to see so many artists who don't get the chance to share their work. I'm left with this sense of longing because I wasn't able to fully experience her work. And she has incredible songs. Celia was always ahead of the game when it came to music. She was someone who never let herself fall behind. I met Celia because my dad and an uncle promoted shows in Colombia and they brought José Alberto 'El Canario' and Celia together to Buenaventura, Quibdó, and a show in Tuluá that didn't end up happening. But I traveled with her on the same bus from Buenaventura to Tuluá, and I got the chance to talk with her. She said something to my mom about me, and my mom made me sing. I was about 13 or 14 years old. I'd seen her on TV, but my dad collected albums and my mom was a huge fan of Celia. I've always been really close to my mom, and in many moments of her life, Celia's music was her soundtrack. 'Ritmo, Tambor y Flores' was my first real connection to Celia. One of my aunts made me learn the song, and I sang it the first time I performed in a parade in Condoto. I was about 9 years old, and at my fifth-grade graduation, 'Ritmo, Tambor y Flores' was already part of my repertoire. That's the song I sang to her on the bus. I went to see her in Buenaventura first. She was wearing white leggings, a shiny top and a short, white wig and she looked amazing. Like, wow — it wasn't often you saw women who could pull off a look like that. I saw music as something totally normal because my mom sang, my uncle brought artists and I'd go to the studios of Grupo Niche. I felt like I was part of the scene. So when they said, 'Now we're heading to Tuluá on the bus with Celia and 'El Canario,' it felt normal. She was traveling with her husband and it was a big, comfy bus. And she said, 'What a beautiful little girl. She has something special.' My mom told me to sing 'Ritmo, Tambor y Flores.' She started singing the chorus, and I sang the second part because I was feeling a little shy. She said, 'Keep going, keep going.' And we all started singing together. Imagine that — my skin still tingles thinking about it. It feels like such a normal story, but honestly, it's not that normal. Especially because kids are usually pretty sheltered at that age. Later, when I was 15, I saw her again, and by then, she looked older, and I was so impressed by the respect people had for her and how she kept thriving as an artist, even as someone who was already so established. She was always in the big leagues. What's happening now isn't possible without talking about her. Her story needs to be told. The third annual Billboard Latin Women in Music special will air live at 9 p.m. ET / 8 p.m. CT on Thursday, April 24 exclusively on Telemundo, Universo, Peacock and the Telemundo app and throughout Latin America and the Caribbean on Telemundo Internacional. Read Billboard's Latin Women In Music 2025 executive list here. Best of Billboard Chart Rewind: In 1989, New Kids on the Block Were 'Hangin' Tough' at No. 1 Janet Jackson's Biggest Billboard Hot 100 Hits H.E.R. & Chris Brown 'Come Through' to No. 1 on Adult R&B Airplay Chart
Yahoo
28-02-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
'Carnaval 2025: Veinte Años' brings music, dance and traditions to life
Feb. 27—Take a journey to four iconic Carnival destinations without leaving the comfort of the National Hispanic Cultural Center with "Carnaval 2025: Veinte Años." Guests will be immersed in the music, cultures and dance of four locales who are known to enthusiastically celebrate Carnival — Brazil, Trinidad and Tobago, Cuba and New Orleans. The festivities at the NHCC will begin at 7:30 p.m. Saturday, March 1. "This is our 20th year of doing the show at the National Hispanic Cultural Center, and it's a one of a kind show," said Frank Leto, producer, director and composer of the event. "We take the audience to Brazil to experience Carnival in Brazil, where they play samba," Leto said. "We take them to Trinidad and Tobago, where they play calypso music and steel drums. We also take the audience to Cuba, where they have the comparsa and the conga rhythms that they use during Carnival, and then we take them to New Orleans." Carnival is a celebration of life that occurs just before the Catholic observance of Lent, a time of fasting, praying and abstinence. Traditionally, people celebrate with extravagant dances, celebrations and meals before Lent begins, and this year is no exception. An eight-piece band, PANdemonium, featuring local musicians, will fill the theater with sound during the show and this year, guests will have a dance floor where they can dance along to vibrant sounds that mimic the feeling of Carnival. "They get solos and get a chance to really cut loose," Leto said. "This year, I chose mostly just very danceable songs that we're going to be performing. The music is just really uplifting and exciting." Leto composed and wrote music that will be performed in the show. He plays steel drums, which are called pan in Trinidad. Leto said the band was "a vehicle for me to perform my original music." While musicians jam out during the performance, dancers from the Odara Dance Ensemble will fill the stage with different styles of dance like Afro Cuban, Brazilian and Trinidadian dances. The dance ensemble was created by Leto's wife Pilar, who died in 2024. Many of the dances performed will feature steps passed down from Pilar Leto. "I love what Carnival represents," Leto said. "It represents living in the moment and acknowledging the things that you have in your life that you need to be thankful for." "Carnival happens right before Lent, and this is a time when people sort of overindulge in those things because they know they're going to have to give up dancing and drinking and listening to music," Leto added. "This is a time for them to celebrate before they go into prayers and withholding."
