A percussion explosion
You can tell a lot about a musician's personality by the instruments he or she plays. And so it is with congas. Friday night at the Kimmel Center, the Conga Kings' arrays told the story.
You can tell a lot about a musician's personality by the instruments he or she plays. And so it is with congas. Friday night at the Kimmel Center, the Conga Kings' arrays told the story.
Candido Camero had three drums, basic white with wide middles and small bottoms, propped on a stand. Francisco Aguabella had four natural-wood models. And Giovanni Hidalgo, the extrovert, brought six huge, bright, multicolored tambores to the meeting.
The Master (Aguabella), the Grandfather/El Abuelo (Candido), and the Prodigy (Hidalgo) were enabled by a crack group of Latin jazz vets, including bassist Andy Gonzalez; singer Julio Salgado, who sounded like a Ruben Blades channeler; and akpuon/tres virtuoso David Oquendo. Playing a series of songs associated with Chano Pozo (with dated but rock-solid arrangements) in honor of the Cuban roughneck and jazz deity, the group set up a framework through which the two old congueros and one lion in his prime could contrast and combine their styles.
The dapper Aguabella is known more for his mastery of Afro-Cuban religious music than Latin jazz or Cuban folk, but his style was shoulder-driven, tonal, communicative, and strong, harking further back to African ancestral origins. Hidalgo, hereby dubbed el Conga Man in honor of the old Fania All-Stars tune ("furioso, atacante, dueño"), demonstrated an arm-driven, pianistic style that was both wild and exact. While he enjoyed showing off his phenomenal technique and speed, Hidalgo also combined a high degree of musicality with his computer-like execution.
Candido, who long before he turned 88 was a master of spectacular, theatrical solos, enjoyed playing snippets of tunes and chordal effects. His technical focus was on his huge, boxer-taped hands; Candido's fingers controlled his every move, and even the slap taps of fingers on skin were loud and definitive.
Tiempo Libre, a band of much younger Cuban-born musicians based in Miami, played in a contemporary timba style while drawing powerfully from Cuba's strong folk, jazz, pop, and classical traditions. Leader Jorge Gomez's arrangements sent bassist Tony Fonte on schizophrenic rides (part guitar, part drum), and percussionists Hilario Bell and Leandro Gonzalez shed new light on old Afro-Cuban beats.