Three musical flowers that grew from the seeds of Los Mozambiques included Nueva Vida, Roberto y Su Zafra and Skorpio 77.
Ernesto “Cortijo” Atherley, who played cencerro for Los Mozambiques and later timbales and batería for Jaime Murrell’s Skorpio, got the chance to lead his own band in 1975-76. Known as Orquesta Nueva Vida (Nuevavida, Nueva Vida) they recorded a number of beautiful sides across four 45s on the Tamayo label, including a fantastic version of Don Lengua (see earlier post) with vocal by Murrell.
Orquesta Nueva Vida included Atherley on timbales/batería, Skorpio’s David Choy on electric piano (Wurlitzer), Chombín on bass, Timaná (now living in Spain) on tumbadora, and two (delicious) trombones in Macarthy and De Leon. Macarthy, who now lives in France, was from a Cuban family and did the horn arrangements with Choy. Vocals were by Los Mozambiques big three of Carlos Martinez, Jaime Murrell and Eduardo Williams. On the last 45, Victor Del Rosario – Babaila’s brother – handled the vocals. I have not been able to get the name of the bongocero – if anyone knows, please advise.
The A-side of “Don Lengua” was “Sombrero de Paja”, which the musicians most likely heard from a version by the Venezuelan Cholo y su Combo from the De Espanto! canta Chiqui Tamayo LP on Velvet (1966/67). The original composition was “Un Sombrero de Paja” (1964) by the Argentine Chico Novarro (real name Bernardo Mitnik, child of Jewish migrants from Europe). In this lovely remake, vocals are by the golden-throated Carlos Martinez:
Nueva Vida’s four 45s are as follows:
“Sombrero de Paja/Don Lengua” (Vocal by Carlos Martinez/Jaime Murrell) “Rosita/Consuelate” (Vocal by Carlos Martinez/Eduardo Williams) “Gloria Melina/Pa’ Jerusalem” (Vocals by Carlos Martinez) “La Mariposa/Mi Corazon Te Llama” (Vocals by Victor Del Rosario)
Roberto y su Zafra (the zafra is the annual cane harvest) were led by Mozambiques guitarist Roberto Dominguez, and their first (self-titled) LP on Tamayo (1976) featured Ricardo Babaila del Rosario (see previous post) on vocals. Arrangements were by Alexis “El Profe” Castillo, whose fingerprints are all over Panamanian Salsa in the ’70s, and the combo featured the well regarded “Amed” on piano. There is an extended bio of Roberto Dominguez here.
The first song on the LP has Babaila singing a hot version of “El Muñeco De La Ciudad”, here renamed “El Negro de la Ciudad” . The song is a great example of some of the musical pathways traveled in the Latin Caribbean.
“El Muñeco De La Ciudad” is a Venezuelan Merengue by composer Adrián Pérez from Miranda state in that lovely, troubled country, which became a big hit as recorded by Nelson Pinedo with la Sonora Matancera in La Habana Cuba in 1954. Pinedo himself was from Barranquilla, Colombia, and Wikipedia says this about his work with La Sonora Matancera :”He incorporated various Colombian songs (porros, cumbias, and mapalés) into the band’s repertoire—many being adapted to Cuban rhythms such as the Bolero.” Here Roberto Dominguez and Babaila Del Rosario throughly Pana-salsify the classic, adding bits of Boricua Sonero Mayor Ismael Rivera’s “Mi Negrita Me Espera” into the mix:
Roberto y su Zafra was soon joined by Beny Romero, who would become the band’s main singer (they also recorded with Gabino Pampini). Here is a song from their excellent LP De Beny a Beny (dedicated to Beny Moré) – also with arrangements by Alexis Castillo, and this time with piano by Raul Gallimore – a cover of Silvestre Mendez’s “Yiri Yiri Bom”, which Moré immortalized in 1948-50 with Orquesta De Rafael De La Paz in Mexico City:
In 1977, Skorpio also split up, and half of the band recorded at least three songs, with Tommy Barrett now on vocals – “Violencia” which shares a 45 with Roberto y su Zafra’s “Que Murmuren”, and an excellent version of the Johnny Colón dancefloor burner “Merecumbe” :
Thanks for help with research on this series goes to my brother Paul Hobi, Alonso Speid QEPD, Tommy Barrett QEPD, and Maestros David Choy, Ricardo “Babaila” del Rosario, Carlos Martinez and Virgilio Martin. Additional information was taken from the Retro Panama Musical account on FB
When musicologists and historians note that Salsa music – the catchall marketing term for the glory that Nuyoricans and Cubans in NYC transformed AfroCuban dance music into in the ’60s and ’70s – was the music of the barrios of (Caribbean) Latin America, they can use Ricardo “Babaila” Del Rosario as a living, breathing (and singing) example. (Panama had and has many such examples, including Francisco “Bush” Buckley, Maximo Rodriguez, Anel Sanders, Manito Johnson, and all of their bandmates and socios in La Salsa Panameña).
Del Rosario was born in Panama City in 1954 but raised by his grandmother in Colón, singing in the church with her. He started out singing rock tunes (“In a Gadda da Vida”) and playing bongo and cencerro, and when he moved back to Panama City at 14 or 15 he returned an environment where his tío would play records of Maelo Rivera and Gran Combo, and where he saw a young Willie Colón (and Hector Lavoe), Roberto Roena and others playing live at the Carnavales.
In around 1973, he was living with the brother of Hermogenes “Toty” Pino, who was playing trombone in Los Mozambiques de Jaime Morrell (just before they became Skorpio). Toty’s brother suggested he put Ricardo on, and he began playing cencerro and singing backup. As gigs wore on and singer Eduardo Williams’ voice began to fade, Ricardo got his shot to sing lead and did not miss.
He nailed “Babaila”, the epic Salsa classic about an enslaved African boy (another “Tite” Curet Alonso composition) from Pete “El Conde” Rodriguez’s solo debut LP, and crowds began asking for it. Popular radio DJ Emiliano Aizpurúa gave him the song title as a nickname, and it stuck.
Babaila Del Rosario is a rumbero, like the old school Cubans – along with Gabino Pampini, he’s perhaps the perfect distillation of the Panamanian salsa swing – bouncy vocal improvisations llenas de sabor from the school of Beny, Cascarita and Maelo (who loved and hid out in Panama often in later years. Which is where he encountered “El Naza”, the black christ of Portobelo who inspired the massive hit “El Nazareno”.) Like a true rumbero, Del Rosario doesn’t like to prepare too much before he goes in front of the mike, as he says it affects his improvisation.
in 1974, Toty Pino left Los Mozambiques to become bandleader of Los Excelentes, and brought Ricardo over with him to record for Tamayo’s Monumental Tamayo Vol. 1(see previous post), a sampler where each group sang one song (with crowd noise and DJ intros by Aizpurua) that marked Tamayo’s strong entry into a market hungry for the sounds of the new generation of Combos Nacionales.
Los Excelentes recorded “La Aparición”, a song by Carlos Eleta Almarán. Eleta was a force in Panama and Latin America generally, as: 1. Radio pioneer and founder with his brother Fernando of the first Television channel of Panamá, RPC Televisión, Canal 4 2. Manager of World Champion Roberto “Manos de Piedra” Duran 3. Composer of the worldwide hit love song “Historia De Un Amor.” (His niece is Gladys Palmera, probably the world’s preeminent collector of Latin American music, who with José Arteaga runs the fantastic Radio Gladys Palmera site and archive).
The song was a big hit – sometimes referred to by its hook “Con la Velita y su San Miguel”:
Echa… que esta sabroso!
In 1975, Del Rosario was also singing with Jaime’s Murrell’s latest creation, Skorpio (see previous post) , and as they were preparing the Balada-Soul “Te Conocí”for a single on Tamayo, they realized they needed a song for the other side.
Babaila stepped forward with his own composition, “Te Toca Tocar La Tumba”, and as a result one of the hottest bits of Panamanian dancefloor Salsa was pressed on 7 inch vinyl. Musical Director/Pianist David Choy did the Bass and Piano arrangement (and played the Wurlitzer), and Umar Al Sadik (then known as Dario “Plaga” Rodriguez) arranged the metals and played Trumpet:
Kupeli tumbele combo baila usted
How much was Del Rosario paid for his composition? $100, and he was thrilled to rush out and buy new threads with his earnings (check out his style on the cover of the Roberto y su Zafra LP, following post).
Del Rosario has gone on to a successful career recording with the likes of Colombia’s Diego Galé (leader of Grupo Galé) and is, as the time of this writing, still singing and recording. His latest recordings have exposed a whole new generation to his brilliant composition:
Jaime Murrell was looking for a new sound, which he had been probing towards with his “I Like To Be With You” (see previous post) on Happy Records, his last using the name Los Mozambiques. For his new band – named Skorpio – he added trumpets in Umar Al Sadik (then known as Dario “Plaga” Rodriguez) and Enrique Arthur, Ibrahim Merel on Sax, and enlisted a nineteen year old piano prodigy/arranger named David Choy.
Choy (b. 1955), who was raised in El Casco Viejo, had Cuban and Chinese grandfathers who were both professional musicians. His uncles were horn players as well, and luminaries like internationally recognized trumpet player Victor “Vitin” Paz were regular household guests. Choy, who started young on the violin and piano, studied medicine, intending to be a plastic surgeon. At 16 or 17 he was attending a dance where the Soul Fantastics were playing, and someone who knew he could play let the band know, and they invited him onstage to play the organ.
Music called, and he spent a year and half at the conservatory, learning how to read, write and arrange. At some point he came to the attention of Murrell, who took him on as pianist for the recording of Los Mozambiques “I Like To Be With You”, and subsequently as musical director of Skorpio. Choy had arguments with his Cuban grandfather, who wanted him to focus on classical music, but he persisted. Recall that at this time, being a popular dance musician was considered a lower class occupation, almost like being part of an underworld.
Skorpio, canta Jaime Murrell
Aside from the new horns (which at times included Hermogenes “Toty” Pino on trombone), Murrell got Federico “Rico” Blythe on guitar, brothers Ricardo “Oso” and Jorge “Willie” Ramirez on Bass and Drums respectively, Manuel Vicente Rosales on Tumba and backup singer/guitar player Tommy Barrett. Per Tommy, Willie Ramirez was a smoking hot drummer.
(I met Tommy (QEPD) in Colón in the early 2000s, and he was quite a character. He had a small stand just inside one of the many run-down buildings along the Avenida Central where he made custom mix CDs for people by burning audio from LPs and 45s that people found in the trash and brought to him. He had fantastic taste in music. Unfortunately, he would throw them away after he had burned them, and no matter when I said, I couldn’t convince him to hold on to the vinyl so I could buy them the next time I was in town. Nothing I said could convince him otherwise.)(Insert Edvard Munch Scream emoji here.)
Skorpio recorded an excellent cover of Cheo Feliciano’s “El Raton” on Discos Taboga with distorted electric guitar, which Cheo had recently rereleased with the Fania All Stars on the live “Latin – Soul – Rock” LP – which was huge in the Carribean barrios of Latin America at that time. And then they entered the studio for Sr. Almanza of Happy Records again.
Almanza’s Happy/Continental de Discos label is another one of the small labels that produced some fantastic music in ’70s Panama, including the Latin Soul of Natalia Clarke and the Gliders, La Maffia (their monster version of Fela Kuti’s “Black Man Cry” was on Happy), as well as two excellent Salsa dura 45s (and one LP that inexplicably only had a Colombian pressing) by the underrated La Ofensiva.
Here is the cover for their debut LP Skorpio on Happy, with stunning art credited to Alfonso Hernández:
Skorpio was the first combo to use a piano – soon a Wurlitzer electric piano, which stood out in Choy’s hands – and Murrell and Choy’s new sound was on full display in their fantastic soulful/latin arrangement of Mexican Idol Vicente “Chente” Fernandez’s 1972 megahit “Volver Volver”:
Regarding his arrangement of “Volver Volver”, Choy noted that he was sometimes chided for his eclectic tastes by other bandleaders and arrangers who were squarely in the Afro-Cuban school – but, he admits: “Yo soy muy Funkero, Latino pero Funkero.”
Another masterpiece on this LP is the 10 minute long (split into two songs) ” I Can’t Make It/E Man Boogie.” Both are covers, the first of Bay Area Chicano/Latin Rock legends Sapo (an original 1974 composition by singer Richard Bean), and second by the Jimmy Castor Bunch.
Recall that with the Canal Zone in US hands and the Vietnam war raging, American servicemen (significant portions of whom were African American, Puerto Rican and Chicano) and American Radio were constant in Panama, especially for musicians whose musical antennae are always finely tuned. David Choy confirms that he played with many ethnic Americans in the Canal Zone, “mucho Boricua”, including the bassist of the mystery Panamanian funk/soul group Jungle Rat.
Skorpio released an excellent cover of the great Colombian bandleader Fruko’s oriza-rhythm “Manyoma” on Happy and then released a second LP (and a number of singles) on Tamayo entitled Santo de Barraza. That LP included the slinky bilingual Soul Cha Cha smoker “Sonia.” Noted as a “Salsa – Soul”, the song was written by Raúl Gallimore, brother of the Beachers famous organ player/bandleader Lloyd Gallimore:
Skorpio played live often in 1974-76, before the band split up in 1977.
Image from Retro Musical Panama
After Skorpio, Choy played with groups called “Bandido” and “Sunset” in the Canal Zone, doing lots of Latin-flavored funk and rock covers. Unfortunately, neither group recorded. He went on to a fruitful career as composer and arranger in Panama and Latin America, and his compositions appear on Ruben Blades’ “La Rosa de Los Vientos” LP (1997).
Looking back, Skorpio were one of the high points (along with standout groups like The Exciters, The Silvertones, Los Fabulosos Festivals and Los Mozambiques) in the fantastic, unique fusions of Latin/Caribbean and North American musics that the brilliant Afro-Antillean and Mestizo youth of the Republic of Panama produced in the ’60s and ’70s.
Ultimately, Timbalero and bandleader Oscar de Leon prevailed in the fight for who could use the Los Mozambiques name going forward. In 1974 he signed with the Tamayo label, which had previously focused on pressing 45s of Música Típica. Founded by Colombian-born music impresario Rodrigo Escobar Tamayo – himself a talented composer and guitar player/singer of traditional Décimas – Tamayo records moved aggressively into the popular dance sound of the Combos Nacionales while smaller competitors such as Sally Ruth, Loyola foundered.
Tamayo was soon to release its first LP, Monumental Tamayo Vol. 1, a compilation of well known combos such as Bocas del Toro’s Los Beachers (who had a number of LPs under their belt already on the Loyola label), Oscar de Leon’s Los Mozambiques, and newer but up-and-coming combos like Combo Impacto, Los Arco Iris, Los Excelentes and La Ofensiva. Tamayo would go on to be the dominant label of the combos explosion of the mid to late 1970s.
Oscar de Leon got singers Trini Paye (who appears on the Monumental LP), Wilfredo Ingram and Carlos “El Grande” from Los Excelentes to record with Los Mozambiques. The band would remain guitar-led and musicians credited on the Noche de Cumbia LP released in 1975 on Tamayo include: Lorenzo Campbell and Alberto Dudley on Guitars, Leonardo Phlatts on bass, Olmedo Adames and Roberto Timaná on bongo and tumbadora respectively, Ruben Rodriguez on Sax, Joaquin Paredes on Trumpet, and Fran Olmedo Weber on Trombone.
The new horn section certainly sounded great on the Tamayo 45 “Noches de Amor”, with vocal by Paye:
As noted above, Carlos Martinez returned to record on the Noche de Cumbia LP, which included huge hits in “Los Barcos en La Bahia” and “El Niño y El Perro.” He also recorded a hot salsa 45 that would be a staple on Panamanian radio in “Conchita Ven” on the Mozambiques/Tamayo label:
In 1976-77 the younger brother of well known Panamanian bolero singer (and occasional montunero) Socrates Lazo joined Los Mozambiques, recording a nice guitar-led salsa tune in “El Criticón” that made some noise on Panamanian radio. The singer was Gabino Pampini (Armando Lasso), and he was destined for international fame:
Pampini’s vocal style is probably the greatest expression of the Panamanian salsa swing, full of playful improvisation and sabor. His biggest hit while still in Panama was the beautiful “La Luna y El Toro”, which he recorded with El Combo Impacto in the same time period. A cover of a Flamenco-based hit for the Spanish child singer Joselito, “La Luna y El Toro” was a big hit in Colombia and Perú, and audiences still ask for it at his concerts:
Pampini would record with Los Mozambiques again in 1977-78, including an excellent LP (Mozambiques – Pampini) that shows him and Oscar de Leon on the cover:
The LP features arrangements by the ever-salsoso Alexis “El Profe” Castillo and features the signature Mozambiques guitar-led sound (Lorenzo Campbell on guitar) on excellent tunes such as “Canto Para No Llorar”:
Oscar de Leon’s Mozambiques continued to have success in the late ’70s and into the early ’80s with singers Beny Romero and Arcadio Molinar, before the DJ sound systems killed the combos as a distinct movement.
Sometime in late 1973 Los Mozambiques split into two groups, both using the same name: Los Mozambiques de Oscar de Leon, and the Murrell-led Los Autenticos Mozambiques/Los Mozambiques de Jaime Murrell. During this period litigation began over who had the rights to use the name Los Mozambiques, which had gained currency with the Panamanian public.
Most of the original band stayed with Murrell, while Carlos Martinez, who was closer to timbalero Oscar de Leon, went over to record a 45 with Los Excelentes (“Todo Esta Sabroso” on Taboga) , who already had a singer of their own in budding star Carlos “El Grande” Ferrer. Murrell took the band into the studio – still with Discos Ismeños – to record a full-length LP, which was released in early 1974.
The result was the now much sought-after LP Los Autenticos Mozambiques! Marcado. Tumbero Santiago Small remained as did Roberto Dominguez (who would go on to form Roberto y su Zafra) on guitar, while Cortijo Atherley had now taken over from De Leon as timbalero/drummer. Murrell and Atherley added horns in Dario Rodriguez and Hermogenes “Toty” Pino (trombone). Toty Pino would go on to be a well known name on the combos scene as well, leading Los Excelentes.
Here are two songs people particularly enjoy off the Marcado LP: “Marcado” (which has some of the Western Movie vibe the cover displays) and “Lonely Soldier”
Because of that “inquietud” that musicians talk about, Murrelll continued to try to find a new sound, adding a young pianist and arranger we’ll hear more about later, David Choy, to his Los Mozambiques de Jaime Murrell. Recall that all the previous incarnations of Los Mozambiques had been guitar-led, as was the case with most of the smaller combos of the time.
This iteration of Murrell’s band entered the studio to record for the Happy label, run by Alcides Almanza. The result was a lovely bilingual soul tune (a Murrell specialty) called “I Like To Be With You”, where Choy’s work on piano stands out:
Murrell’s vision was morphing into something new – meanwhile legal action was apparently being resolved in Oscar de Leon’s favor, meaning he would be able to use the Los Mozambiques name going forward.
Among the best of Panama’s Combos Nacionales, the Combo Los Mozambiques are notable for their standout vocalists, and the very Antillean, guitar-led swing that characterized their initial recordings. According to Alonso Rolando Speid (QEPD), who functioned as their “empresario” early on, Los Mozambiques started out as the Combo Peor es Nada in 1966-67 in the barrios of Santa Ana and Chorillo in the capital of Panama City.
Photo collection of Alonso Rolando Speid
Alonso recalls having a cencerro made at a metal factory, where they also had a 55 gallon drum cut in half to serve as a bass with a stick and nylon string. Maracas, tumbadora and ukelele filled out the accompaniment. The original lineup included Oscar De Leon (originally from Colón – and no relation to the Venezuelan singer/bassist) on tumba and timbales, “Vidal” on timbales, Tito Dormay on Bass, and singers Tomas “Tacho” Goodrich (sang merengues), Almendra, and Eduardo Williams singing Calypsos.
The group played the Boite (nightclub) Figali in Chorillo, adding a creative backup guitarist in Roberto Dominguez (from San Miguelito) and two excellent singers whose presence led to them grow in popularity: Jaime (Jimmy) Murrell and Carlos Martinez. The group changed their name to Los Mozambiques from the Cuban rhythm of the same name that was hot in the Afro-Antillean barrios of Latina America (and NYC) around 1968 as popularized by Eddie Palmieri and Ricardo Ray. Alonso recalls selling 45s off the back of his motorcycle and attributes his frequents sell-outs to the excellent sound the recordings had thanks to Discos Istmeños’ brilliant engineer Balito Chan.
Los Mozambiques recorded four singles in 1969-70, including the two-sider “La Calandria/El Presidiario”, both featuring the golden-throated Carlos Martinez. Martinez had initially sung with a Combo called Los Juveniles, but says he liked the Mozambiques swing better, and so took his version of Celina and Reutilio’s “A Un Presidiario” into the studios with them instead. “El Presidiario”, a tender song about a convict’s ruminations on his life behind bars, was a hit on the radio for all of 1969, and is still popular in Panama to this day.
Another 45 recorded at this time featured Eduardo Williams and Jaime Murrell singing respectively on “Consuelate” (original by the famed Cuban guarachero Orlando “Cascarita” Guerra) and “No Llores Mas”. Though “Consuelate” has been covered many times, Los Mozambiques really put their stamp on their unique, soulful and swinging version:
And here is the A-side, the Jaime Murrell original “No Llores Mas.” The sound and swing this small combo was able to create is still amazing, with luscious, soulful harmonies – this isn’t the “wap dooaah” of the (many excellent) Mexican bands influenced by Francisco Fellové… this is Antillean Soul:
The group entered the studio in 1970 to add two more songs to complete the LP El Presidiario, including a beautiful version of the Gerald Wilson classic “Viva Tirado” that featured on the first Panama! compilation on Soundway Records – a lovely bilingual mashup of with snippets of soul songs and Billie Holiday’s/ Gershwin’s “Summertime” sung by Murrell. The El Presidiario LP, later re-pressed on Tamayo, is a classic of the Combos Nacionales sound.
1970-72 seems to have been the peak of the original Combo’s popularity – here is an image from Sr. Speid’s collection of a Mozambiques dance in this period, followed by ads that have them alternating with the Soul Fantastics and Beachers:
Crowd at a Mozambiques show, collection of Alonso Speid
The group recorded a number of additional 45s in 1972 including “Noche de Carnaval” (Martinez vocal – a big hit)/”Mi Corazon es un Gitano” (Eduardo Williams vocal), The Murrell composition “Nina” (featured in an earlier post) / Martinez composition “Navidad en Casa No”, and another personal favorite two-sider in “Calandria No”/”Ilsa”, sung by Carlos Martinez and Jaime Murrell respectively.
Per Tommy Barrett, who would play with Jaime Murrell later on in Skorpio, Murrell wrote Ilsa for a girlfriend he had in Concepción who broke his heart. “Calandria No” is a composition by Ernesto “Cortijo” Atherley, who played cencerro for the band in practices and started to emerge as a composer and leader:
In 1972-73, interpersonal conflicts between the stellar collection of vocalists came to a head, and the band suffered a bajón (downturn) where they stopped playing live, per Martinez. Atherley composed the last 45 by the original combo which adds a fierce trumpet section, the fiery, straight-ahead salsa tune “Llegamos Ya” (featured on Panama! 3) which finds Martinez singing that the band isn’t done yet, that rumors of its demise were premature.
Unfortunately, the band would indeed split (literally) after this period, but like a pod full of ripe musical seeds, would sprout new and gorgeous flowers in the fertile soil of Panama’s popular dance scene.
The first song I’ll discuss I first heard when I was getting to know my Tia Abuela as an adult, in Costa Rica. I was processing (and arguing with her about) her predilection for all things blonde and blue eyed, and casual aspersions about all things Trigueño, Indio or Negro. I particularly liked discussing this song with her, versus my usual frustratingly ineffective deconstructions of the largely lily white iconography sections of Latin American department stores, and Italian paintings of Jesus as a Northern European and their connection to class constructs in Latin America.
Per Wikipedia, “Píntame Angelitos Negros” is a famous poem by the Venezuelan poet Andrés Eloy Blanco published in 1940/44 that was turned into a bolero (as “Angelitos Negros”) by the Mexican actor and composer Manuel “Maciste” Álvarez Rentería. It was first sung by massively popular (throughout the region) singer/actor Pedro Infante in the movie of the same name (1948). Antonio Machín, the globetrotting Cuban singer who brought “El Manisero” to fame in 1930, sang a version that was very popular in Spain, where he lived beginning in the 1950s.
Among the tens of versions of the song are those sung by Latin American giants such as Toña la Negra, Celia Cruz, Lola Flores, Javier Solís and Chavela Vargas, to name just a few. Eartha Kitt and Roberta Flack both sang versions in the US. Eartha’s version follows here – she by the way was not just a kitschy purring singer (my ‘70s baby POV) but an inspiring artist and activist, particularly beginning in the Vietnam war period (worth a google for how she made Lady Bird Johnson cry at a White House dinner):
Here are my selected translations of the text of the poem, about La Negra Juana lamenting the death of her Negrito:
Píntame Angelitos Negros Andrés Eloy Blanco
Se me murió mi negrito; Dios lo tendrá dispuesto; ya lo tendrá colocao como angelito del Cielo.
My negrito died God will have him ready He’ll already be set up as an angel in heaven
…
Desengáñese, comadre, que no hay angelitos negros.
Don’t fool yourself comadre, there are no black angels.
…
Pintor de santos de alcoba, pintor sin tierra en el pecho, que cuando pintas tus santos no te acuerdas de tu pueblo, que cuando pintas tus Vírgenes pintas angelitos bellos, pero nunca te acordaste de pintar un ángel negro.
Painter of saints in their alcoves, Painter without this land in your heart, when you paint your saints you forget your people, when you paint your virgins you paint pretty angels, but you never remembered to paint a black angel.
…
Pintor nacido en mi tierra, con el pincel extranjero, pintor que sigues el rumbo de tantos pintores viejos, aunque la Virgen sea blanca, píntame angelitos negros.
Painter born in my land with a foreign paintbrush, Painter who follows the line of so many old painters, though the Virgin be white, paint me black angels
…
No hay pintor que pintara angelitos de mi pueblo. Yo quiero angelitos blancos con angelitos morenos. Ángel de buena familia no basta para mi cielo.
There is no painter who will paint angels from my people/town. I want white angels with brown angels. An angel from a good family is not enough for my heaven.
…
Si sabes pintar tu tierra, así has de pintar tu cielo, con su sol que tuesta blancos, con su sol que suda negros,
If you know how to paint your land, That’s how you need to paint your heaven, With its sun that toasts whites with its sun that makes blacks sweat
…
No hay una iglesia de rumbo, no hay una iglesia de pueblo, donde hayan dejado entrar al cuadro angelitos negros. Y entonces, ¿adónde van, angelitos de mi pueblo, zamuritos de Guaribe, torditos de Barlovento?
There is no church (generally), There is no small town church, Where they have let black angels be painted. So, where do they go, Angels from my people, Redskins from Guaribe, Mulatos from Barlovento?
…
Pintor que pintas tu tierra, si quieres pintar tu cielo, cuando pintas angelitos acuérdate de tu pueblo y al lado del ángel rubio y junto al ángel trigueño, aunque la Virgen sea blanca, píntame angelitos negros.
Painter who paints your land, if you want to paint your heaven, remember your people and next to the blond angel and with the brown-skinned angel though the Virgin be white, paint me black angels.
The next song I’d like to discuss is “Si Dios Fuera Negro” a Bomba-Guaracha by the fascinating Boricua composer and singer Roberto Angleró. Roberto Angleró Pepín (1929 – 2018) was a childhood friend of the titan Boricua Salsa composer Catalino “Tite” Curet Alonso (the singing postman). Like Tite Curet, Angleró was a working class man, trained as a mechanic when his father sent him to live with family in The Bronx in 1942.
Per wikipedia: “While in New York, Angleró was drafted into the United States Air Force. He served four years, saw action in South Korea during the Korean War, and was eventually stationed at Air Force bases in Alabama and Texas. Angleró faced multiple racial discrimination incidents while serving in the Southern United States; a particularly acrimonious one occurred in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where a restaurant owner refused to serve him dinner and later called military police to have him and his Jewish-American Air Force buddy escorted out of the state.”
Angleró returned to PR in the ‘60s and joined Lito Peña’s Orquesta Panamericana as singer and composer, and later wrote successfully for both El Gran Combo (including a personal favorite, “Serrana” in 1968) and Bobby Valentín (he penned “Son Son Chararí” and two huge hits: the anthem “Soy Boricua” and “La boda de ella”).
He later formed his own band, Tierra Negra, with whom he recorded “Si Dios Fuera Negro” in 1979, the melody of which he said came to him in a dream. Again, per Wikipedia: “This song became a smash hit in various Latin American countries (particularly Puerto Rico, Colombia, Panama and Peru), and was later versioned in French and became a hit in Guadeloupe and Martinique.”
Si Dios fuera negro -mi compay- todo cambiaría Fuera nuestra raza -mi compay- la que mandaría
Negro el presidente y el gobernador Negro el abogado y negro el doctor compay
If God was black – my man – everything would change It would be our race – my man – that ruled
Black the president and the governor Black the lawyer and black the doctor my man
Negra la azucena Y negra la tiza Negra Blanca Nieve Negra Mona Lisa
Black the lily and black the chalk Black Snow White Black Mona Lisa
Negro fuera el día Negro fuera el sol Negra la mañana Negro el algodón -compay-
The day would be Black The sun would be black Black the morning Black the cotton – my man
Negro fuera el Papa Y negro el ministro Los angeles negros Negro Jesus Cristo -compay-
The pope would be Black And black the minister The angels black Black Jesus Christ – my man
(then the song plays on white and black in colloquialisms, including hitting the black ball into the white 8 ball in pool)
For the next two songs, I’ll narrow my focus to Panama in the late ‘50s early ‘60s. Panama has a particularly interesting set of race dynamics due to a number of complex factors including but not limited to:
A wildly multicultural and overwhelmingly urban population that included English speaking, Protestant 1st (and bilingual second) generation Afro-Antilleans from Jamaica, Barbados, Trinidad, Martinique, Spanish speaking Catholic Afro-Panamanians (Panama had been known as “Colombia’s Black Province” in the Colonial era), Mestizos of all shades, Mulatos, Indigenous Natives of at least 10 different nations, Spaniards, Greeks, Christian and Muslim Arabs, Jews (both Ashkenazi and Mizrachi), Chinese, etc.
Your typical “Catholic Hispanic” privileging of whiteness, and connection of all things European with progress versus all things Native or Black with the primitive, sensual and brutish. The government in the 1940s flirted with Fascism and its’ attendant violent prejudices, even considering expelling Afro-Antilleans, Chinese and Mizrachi Jews.
A huge US colony (The Canal Zone) in the middle of the country (and its economic engine, for all intents and purposes) administered by many US southerners who ran the zone as if under Mississippi’s Jim Crow laws, with separate water fountains, churches, etc. – and paid black laborers half what they paid whites for the same work.
A black population (probably around 20% of the population) that, because they came as contracted laborers from the Antilles, were never slaves in Panama and were not putting up with the same BS that a colonial population would put up with. Marcus Garvey, by the way, visited Panama numerous times and had thousands of followers in Panama.
With that in mind, here is “Arroz Colorao” written by Ezequiel “Pipo” Navarro for la Orquesta de Raul Ortiz. Raul Ortiz’s was an excellent “2nd tier” Orquesta in the ‘50s and ‘60s, and this song, sung by Quique Arosemena, is a Mambo-Conga on Raul’s Grabaciones Olguita label.
Thanks to my man Mario Hutson, director of Centro Audiovisual de la Biblioteca Nacional de Panama, who shared this bit from the book “Textos del Tamborito Panameño” by Dora P De Zarate, identifying the hook as a Tamborito (amazing folkloric call and response song form, generally with female choral vocal) from the “Congo” population on the Portobelo coast:
137 Arroz Colorao
S:— Los blanco no van al cielo por una solita maña; les gusta comer panela sin haber sembrado cana
Finally, here is an exceptionally beautiful and moving song written and sung by Claudio Avila with La Orquesta Alegria de Chachi Macias – “Negro Soy,” on the Artelec label. La Orquesta Alegria was another excellent “2nd tier” Orquesta from the capital’s working class Marañon barrio, a hotbed of musical brilliance.
Claudio was born Claude Abregail, of Jamaican parents, which makes his stunning Spanish language composition and singing talent all the more incredible. La Orquesta Alegria was formed by 17 year-old Panamanian Sax legend Reggie Johnson, last year’s honoree at Panama Jazz Festival, who played with Clarence Martin and Victor Boa among many others in the ‘60s in a long career that later saw him still recording and touring (with Will “Quantic” Holland) in the 2000s.
The song, in form an Afro-Lament (see earlier post) released around 1958, was a hit, and was played on the radio all the time. Per bandmembers, the song was focused on racism experienced when trying to gain employment, and reflected lived experiences on the Canal Zone.
Negro Soy Claudio Avila
Spoken: Buenos dias señor, vengo a ver si necesitan alguien pa trabajar… Fuera de aqui negro feo, fuera!
Good day sir, I’ve come to see if you need anyone to work… Get out of here ugly negro, get out!
Por ser Negro Todos me condenan, Que culpa tengo De que el mundo me desprecie
For being Black, Everyone condemns me, How is it my fault That the world scorns me.
Dios mio Que esta en el cielo Dame fuerzas para continuar, Aqui en la tierra Ya no soy nadie Por mi color
My God, Who is in heaven Give me strength to carry on Here on earth I’m not a person Because of my color
Ya no me afecta Eso de ser Negro, Porque hoy se Es por la ley de dios
It doesn’t bother me any more Being Black Because now I know It’s God’s will.
Dejame vivir la vida, mira nena, como viven los demas
Coro: No tengo la culpa de haber nacido Negro
La culpa la tiene, la tiene el poderoso
Let me live my life, listen baby, like everyone else lives
Coro: It’s not my fault I was born Black
The fault belongs to, belongs to the powerful one.
Final note: I am working on a very exciting project with my man Hide Morimoto from Discos Okra/Tokyo Sabroso related to Claudio Avila, that we hope to release in the next year. Stay tuned!
I would love to hear any other Latin American songs readers think should be brought into this discussion.
*Quick note, I’ve used “Little Known” a number of times now and need to make clear, I mean little known outside of Panama. Many of these songs are very well known in Panama =)
The first song I’d like to share is Lord Panama’s “Wine She Gramaphone.” Lord Panama (George Allen, 1928-2018) was born in Colón, and was one of the greats of Panamanian Calypso, pressing 45s on his own “Panix” label. Late in life he was awarded Panama’s “Orden Vasco Núñez de Balboa”, an honor reserved for those distinguished in sciences, arts and letters.
This beauty is a classic example of both the tight Calypso bands with especially juicy horn players Panama boasted in the ’40s-70s, and the bawdy double entendre Calypsonians are so famous for. Interestingly, Lord Panama sings this tune all in English/Patois, when he was among the early and best of the bilingual (or trilingual) Panamanian Calypsonians.
Next is the b-side from Black Majesty’s “Mon Cherie” 45 on Grecha, featured earlier, another delicious double entendre:
Finally, here is another heavy 45 on Tropelco from Sir Jablonsky – discussed earlier here – called “Voodoo Doctor”, again, likely with Victor Boa’s Combo:
Sir Jablonsky, from the Maloney documentary “Calipso”
