Irakere pa gozar

 

What an evening. The packed Strathmore music center hall could barely contain itself during the 2-hour show by the Cuban pianist and band leader Chucho Valdés and Irakere, the band he established half a century ago. And here they were again, under the steerage of their legendary leader.

The 83-year old maestro was in excellent shape The sheer virtuosity of all of the players was stunning, but that’s not the point. The point is the musicality and the originality of the music, the joy and the genuine warmth. Irakere is primarily a jazz band but in a Cuban show people expect to dance. The usual strategy, Valdés has said, is for the band to play jazz for the first half of the concert, then switch to pure salsa.

There were three percussionists—one primarily on congas, another with bongos and other smaller percussion, and one behind a drum kit—who with their seamless interplay and polyrhythms provided the backbone of the music. The drummer was Horacio “El Negro” Hernández and one of the percussions was Roberto Jr. Vizcaino Torre, but I missed the name of the other. They were supplemented by the bassist José A. Gola on his 5-sting fretless guitar.

There were four horns, each with a distinct sound. Every one of them could hold their own with any bebop player. Early on in the concert, a lyrical Latin balled featured the tenor sax player Carlos Averhoff Jr. soloing on a soprano (his father, Carlos Averhoff Sr., was himself an influential saxophonist). I swear, this was possibly the best soprano sax solo I have ever witnessed—and I’ve seen them all, from Wayne Shorter down. The sound was just amazing and the fluidity of how he soloed before returning to the melody was reminiscent of Irakere’s original sax star, Paquito d’Rivera.

The maestro himself was dressed in white trousers and a dark blazer, sporting his trademark beret. He walked a bit stiffly but his pianistic abilities remain undiminished. He seems to be able to produce whatever he imagines on the keyboard—and his imagination is equally endless. There were moments when he’d play fast tremolo chords on his right hand, while soloing on the left. Take another early piece in the concert, a tango. It started with a Valdés solo intro which contained musical elements from Latin to free jazz—and a sudden quotation from Mozart for a few bars. In the main tango theme, the rhythm section joined in. Suddenly the swing changed totally and the tune turned into a piano trio jazz piece with a walking bass accompanying Chucho’s fast speed improvisations. Equally suddenly and seamlessly, the jam turned into a brief mambo as the percussionists rejoined, before leading back to the original tango.

We heard strong solos from the alto saxophonist Luis Beltrán and both trumpeters who provided a study in contrasts. The lead trumpeter Eddie de Armas Jr. played with the rubbery fluidity, associated with Duke Ellington’s long-time lead trumpeter William “Cat” Anderson, reaching stratospheric heights. His colleague, Osvaldo Fleiter, played some neat solos on flugelhorn, but the sound of his trumpet was broad and clear as a traditional Spanish horn player’s.

At midpoint, Chucho announced the arrival of the singer. Emilio Frias entered the stage in all black, except for a golden blazer. After that, the evening turned into an unmitigated salsa party. Despite the change in atmosphere, the band continued to play the complex arrangements sharply and with nuance. The dynamic range was remarkable, as a high point was reached with the horns blaring, only to be followed by a soft and sensitive sequence with delicate harmonies. On occasion, Valdés abandoned the piano and crossed the stage to stand in front of the horn section conducting them with his movements.

My jazz heart was rejoicing as people kept dancing and swaying during the lengthy instrumental passages. At one point, all horn players were trading fours on top of a one-chord salsa vamp producing truly inspiring snippets.

The crooner entirely captivated the audience, making us dance and sing along. The horn players produced the background vocals responding to the lead singer’s exhortations. I watched their elegantly synchronized, almost minimalistic dance steps while the rhythm was boiling.

When it came to end the show, the band didn’t just bow and walk away. They gathered into a cluster at the center stage. The horn players kept on playing their riff while the singer continued to sing as they all exited stage left. Needless to say, the audience would not allow their exit to be the end: loud claps and calls were rewarded by a lengthy encore.

I feel lucky that I finally, after all these decades of fandom, managed to catch Chucho Valdés and Irakere live.