Showing posts with label Ray Barretto. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ray Barretto. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 23, 2025

Ray Barretto - 1968 - Acid

Ray Barretto
1968
Acid



01. El Nuevo Barretto 6:49
02. Mercy Mercy Baby 2:42
03. Acid 5:05
04. A Deeper Shade Of Soul 2:42
05. The Soul Drummers 3:46
06. Sola Te Dejare 3:48
07. Teacher Of Love 2:26
08. Espiritu Libre 8:25

Producer – Harvey Averne, Jerry Masucci

Bass – Big Daddy
Congas – Ray Barretto
Piano – Louis Cruz
Timbales – Orestes Vilato
Trumpet – René López, Roberto Rodríguez Jr.
Vocals, Bells – Adalberto Santiago
Vocals, Guiro – Pete Bonet



The Boogaloo-Meets-Soul Concoction That Left Mambo Purists Fuming

In the steamy, syncopated cauldron of 1967 New York City, where the barrios of East Harlem and the South Bronx pulsed with the defiant rhythms of Nuyorican youth, Ray Barretto’s Acid (1967, Fania Records) dropped like a psychedelic bomb on the Latin music scene. This album, a pivotal entry in the Latin boogaloo canon, is a daring fusion of Afro-Cuban rhythms, African American soul, and a dash of jazz-tinged experimentation, served with a side of barrio swagger. Barretto, a conga maestro with 0 credentials, dove headfirst into boogaloo’s youthful rebellion, crafting a record that bridged the Palladium’s fading glory with the dancefloor’s future—much to the chagrin of salsa purists who clutched their claves in horror. 

To appreciate Acid, one must step into the vibrant, turbulent world of 1960s New York, where Puerto Rican and African American communities in East Harlem (El Barrio) and the South Bronx were forging a new cultural identity. The decade was a crucible of change: the Civil Rights Movement was reshaping the nation, Nuyorican pride was surging alongside Black Power, and the Cuban Revolution of 1959 had thrown New York’s Latin music scene into disarray. The U.S. trade embargo severed ties to Cuban musicians and records, leaving the mambo era—epitomized by the Palladium Ballroom—in a state of decline. By 1966, when the Palladium closed, Latin music was scrambling for relevance, desperately seeking a sound to capture the bilingual, bicultural spirit of a younger generation.

Enter boogaloo, the musical equivalent of a barrio block party where everyone’s invited, even if they flub the clave. Boogaloo fused Afro-Cuban rhythms—son montuno, guaguancó, mambo—with the soulful swagger of R&B, doo-wop, and Motown, creating a mid-tempo, danceable sound that was as infectious as it was rebellious. Its bilingual lyrics and loose, interpretive dance style resonated with Nuyorican youth, who grooved to James Brown as readily as Tito Puente. Ray Barretto, a Nuyorican conguero with a storied career in mambo and Latin jazz, was an unlikely boogaloo convert, but Acid marked his bold embrace of the genre, blending his virtuosity with the youthful energy of the barrio.

Released in 1967 by Fania Records, Acid arrived at the peak of boogaloo’s popularity, when the genre was dominating New York’s dancehalls and radio stations. Tracks like “A Deeper Shade of Soul” and “Mercy, Mercy, Baby” became instant anthems, showcasing Barretto’s knack for crafting danceable hits with a soulful edge. The album’s title, a nod to the psychedelic counterculture, was a cheeky provocation, suggesting a “trip” through Latin soul that left mambo traditionalists muttering, “Congas in my boogaloo? ¡Qué horror!” Yet, as we shall see, Acid was a masterfully crafted album, executed by a talented ensemble that balanced Latin roots with soulful innovation.

Acid is an eight-track album that clocks in at just over 30 minutes, embodying boogaloo’s ethos of delivering maximum groove with minimal fuss. Its sound is defined by Barretto’s conga-driven orchestra, featuring congas, piano, bass, trumpets, and vocals, with a gritty, soul-infused aesthetic that contrasts with the polished productions of peers like Ricardo Ray. The album’s production, overseen by Fania’s Jerry Masucci, is crisp yet raw, capturing the energy of a live barrio performance. Barretto’s congas provide the rhythmic backbone, while the vocals—handled by Adalberto Santiago and Pete Bonet—blend soulful crooning with Latin bravado. The trumpets add a jazzy, festive flair, making Acid a versatile bridge between mambo, boogaloo, and soul.

Acid is a genre-bending masterpiece that captures the exuberance and experimentation of 1967 New York with raw, soulful brilliance. Its strength lies in its versatility: Barretto blends boogaloo’s danceable grooves with Latin jazz, soul, and psychedelic flourishes, creating a sound that’s both accessible and sophisticated. The production, crisp yet gritty, enhances the album’s live energy, evoking a barrio dancehall in full swing. Barretto’s congas are the heartbeat, while Santiago and Bonet’s vocals add soulful charisma. The trumpets and piano provide melodic color, making Acid a bridge between mambo’s past and boogaloo’s present.

The album’s cultural significance is profound. At a time when Latin music was struggling to redefine itself post-Cuban Revolution, Acid offered a bold new vision, embracing the bilingual, multicultural identity of Nuyorican youth. Tracks like “A Deeper Shade of Soul” and “Mercy, Mercy, Baby” became anthems of cultural pride, resonating with a generation navigating identity and social change. Yet, the album’s triumph is tinged with irony: boogaloo’s soulful appeal made it a target for salsa purists, who dismissed it as a commercial gimmick, ushering in Fania’s salsa juggernaut by 1970. One can almost hear Tito Puente muttering, “Soul in my Latin music? ¡Qué desastre!” as Barretto’s congas thundered on.

Ray Barretto’s orchestra for Acid was a talented ensemble of Nuyorican and Puerto Rican musicians, many of whom were young players in New York’s Latin music scene. Fania’s focus on bandleaders often left sidemen in the shadows, but the following sketches highlight the key contributors, based on historical accounts and Fania’s roster. Their collective talent brought Acid to life, even if their names were overshadowed by Barretto’s conga-driven star power.

Acid is a cultural artifact that captures the spirit of 1967 New York, a city buzzing with cultural fusion and youthful rebellion. The album’s bilingual lyrics and blend of Latin and soul reflected the Nuyorican experience, bridging Puerto Rican and African American communities at a time of racial tension. Tracks like “A Deeper Shade of Soul” and “Mercy, Mercy, Baby” became anthems of cultural pride, resonating with a generation navigating identity and social change. The album’s psychedelic title and experimental edge connected it to the broader counterculture, making it a unique entry in the boogaloo canon.

The album’s influence extends far beyond the 1960s. Its Latin-soul fusion laid the groundwork for salsa and Latin funk, while its raw energy influenced hip-hop’s early sound. Barretto’s later salsa classics, like “Cocinando,” built on Acid’s experimentation, and the album’s revival in recent years—fueled by bands like Spanglish Fly and vinyl collectors—underscores its enduring appeal. Yet, Acid’s legacy is steeped in irony: boogaloo’s soulful appeal made it a target for salsa purists, who dismissed it as a commercial gimmick, ushering in Fania’s salsa juggernaut by 1970. One can imagine Barretto shaking his head, muttering, “I gave you ‘A Deeper Shade of Soul,’ and you repay me with clave purism? ¡Por favor!”

Acid is a case study in cultural hybridity, illustrating how marginalized communities can create art that transcends boundaries. Its musical innovations—conga-driven boogaloo, bilingual lyrics, jazz and soul fusion—challenged the conventions of the Latin music industry, paving the way for future experimentation. However, the album’s occasional repetitiveness (e.g., “The Soul Man” and “Love Beads” feel like variations on a theme) and shorter tracks limit its depth compared to Barretto’s later, more expansive work. Still, these are minor quibbles in a record that delivers so much energy and innovation. Listening to Acid today is like crashing a 1967 barrio dancehall—gritty, vibrant, and impossible to resist. It’s a reminder that the most revolutionary art often comes from the dancefloor, not the conservatory.

Acid is the boogaloo-meets-soul concoction that left mambo purists fuming, a record that captures the exuberance and experimentation of 1967 New York with raw, soulful brilliance. Ray Barretto, with his conga virtuosity and barrio-born vision, crafted an album that’s both a historical document and a timeless dancefloor filler. His backing band—Adalberto Santiago, Pete Bonet, Louis Cruz, Orestes Vilató, Roberto Rodríguez, Renaldo Jorge, and an unsung bassist—were the unsung architects of this masterpiece, turning Barretto’s vision into reality with their talent and groove. The album’s legacy—its influence on salsa, Latin funk, and modern Latin music—proves that boogaloo was no mere fad, but a cultural force that still resonates.

So, crank up “A Deeper Shade of Soul,” ignore the salsa snobs, and let Barretto’s conga-fueled bravado wash over you. In a world that often demands conformity, Acid is a glorious reminder to groove like nobody’s watching—even if the mambo police are lurking, ready to confiscate your congas.

Friday, January 24, 2025

Eddie Lockjaw Davis - 1962 - Afro-Jaws

Eddie Lockjaw Davis
1962
Afro-Jaws


01. Wild Rice 4:53
02. Guanco Lament 5:16
03. Tin Tin Deo 5:08
04. Jazz-A-Samba 4:14
05. Alma Alegre (Happy Soul) 5:22
06. Star Eyes 6:20
07. Afro-Jaws 7:36

Bass – Larry Gales
Congas, Bongos, Quinto – Ray Barretto
Drums – Ben Riley
Piano – Lloyd Mayers
Tenor Saxophone – Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis
Trumpet – Clark Terry
Trumpet – Ernie Royal
Trumpet – John Bello (tracks: A3, A4)
Trumpet – Phil Sunkel


This set was a change of pace for tenor saxophonist Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis. Backed by three trumpeters (Clark Terry gets some solos), a rhythm section (pianist Lloyd Mayers, bassist Larry Gales and drummer Ben Riley) and a percussion section led by Ray Barretto, Lockjaw performs four compositions by Gil Lopez (who arranged all of the selections) plus "Tin Tin Deo," "Star Eyes" and his own "Afro-Jaws." The Afro-Cuban setting is perfect for the tough-toned tenor, who romps through the infectious tunes.

A soul jazz Latin classic -- one that matches the searing tenor work of Eddie Lockjaw Davis with the hard-hitting conga of a young Ray Barretto! The core group of the set is a soul jazz one -- with Lockjaw blowing over rhythm by Lloyd Mayers on piano, Larry Gales on bass, and Ben Riley on drums -- plus a small added trumpet section on a few tracks. Ray comes into the mix with some really tight percussion on the bottom, aided by a few other players at times -- kicking up the tunes and giving them a lot of fire -- something that Davis seems to really respond to in his horn. Thanks should also be given to arranger Gil Lopez, who put together the overall sound of the set -- and the album's a hard groover all the way through, filled with Latin jammers like "Wild Rice", "Jazz-a-Samba", "Guanco Lament", "Afro Jaws", and "Tin Tin Deo"

Sunday, December 22, 2024

Freddie Hubbard - 1973 - Sky Dive

Freddie Hubbard
1973
Sky Dive



01. Povo 12:33
02. In A Mist 7:04
03. The Godfather 7:21
04. Sky Dive 7:40

Bass – Ron Carter
Bass Clarinet – Phil Bodner
Bass Trombone – Paul Faulise
Clarinet – George Marge, Romeo Penque
Drums – Billy Cobham
Flugelhorn – Marvin Stamm
Flute – Hubert Laws
Flute [Alto] – Hubert Laws, Romeo Penque
Flute [Bass] – Hubert Laws
Guitar – George Benson
Oboe – Romeo Penque
Percussion – Airto, Ray Barretto
Piano, Electric Piano – Keith Jarrett
Trombone – Garnett Brown, Wayne Andre
Trumpet – Alan Rubin, Freddie Hubbard
Tuba – Tony Price

Recorded at Van Gelder Studios, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, October 4 and 5, 1972




Freddie Hubbard's fourth CTI recording (and the second one with Don Sebesky arrangements) certainly has a diverse repertoire. In addition to his originals "Povo" and "Sky Dive" (both of which are superior jam tunes), the trumpeter stretches out on the theme from The Godfather and Bix Beiderbecke's "In a Mist." The charts for the brass and woodwinds are colorful; there is a fine supporting cast that includes guitarist George Benson, Keith Jarrett on keyboards, and flutist Hubert Laws; and Hubbard takes several outstanding trumpet solos.

I don’t know if the assembly-line tac­tics of the ubiquitous Creed Taylor label are paying off commercially, but judging by the speed with which they’re coming off the conveyor belt, I suppose they are. This is Hubbard’s second album for CTI, with another on the way; once again it shows that he’s never recovered from his years with the Jazz Messengers.

His recent residency at Scott’s had him bopping in old Blakey style, while this album embraces a hotch-potch of music­al contexts, ranging from funk-rock to Beiderbecke to Bossa Nova and back to Blakey – all of which suggests a schizo­phrenic rather than versatile attitude. Sadly, Hubbard is lost in a period he can’t come to terms with, while fellow Messengers have either thrown in their lot, contented themselves with the past, or, like Wayne Shorter, forged way ahead. But that’s another story.

Povo drags a Hubbard composition uneasily into up-dated rock. Introduced by a Gil Evans style spread, Carter opens with a simple bass riff which continues remorselessly through the number’s absurdly drawn-out length. The equally simple melody line covers what is basically a languorous early Shor­ter 12-bar composition; add some names like Cobham, Jarrett and Benson and you’ve got a track which does Creed Taylor proud. These presumably lucra­tively enticed session men are hardly enthusiastic, but at least the ball’s roll­ing.

Cobham does especially well by waking up occasionally to change em­phases and add off-beats, only to be forced back by clumsy bouts of orches­tration. Laws alone is trying, and he provides the only solo of any listenable worth. In his other composition, Sky Dive, a piece of Quincy Jones bossa-funk, Hubbard at least bursts into a healthy and sustained playing, in uncompromised tone, of his original style. The following breaks by Benson and Jarrett are just short enough not to steal the show.

Beiderbecke’s In A Mist makes as few bones about its wallowing Messengers treatment as much as Jarrett and Cobham are unafraid to parody a ten year-old Cedar Walton and Art Blakey back­up – which leaves one wondering idly if Hubbard directed them so, or, if not, whether he was aware of what was go­ing on behind his back. Lastly, yet an­other blood-transfusion of the love theme from The Godfather already again, in which a predictable arrangement and glossy orchestration is spared only by a few neat changes in tempo, a miniscule but authentic Jarrett introduction and a brief spell when Cobham, Jarrett and particularly Carter are permitted a couple of minutes trio work.