Salsa & Merengue History... Exploding Myths You may have just finished partying well into the morning with some Latin Americans friends. Maybe you were bowled over by the tremendous energy pulsing through the occassion. Maybe you've just experienced salsa for the first time and know it's what you were born to do.

There's so much material out there it's difficult to know where to start, let alone how to separate fact from myth and opinion. Here might be a good place to begin. 

Note: The ensuing discourse contains numbers in square brackets that cross-referenced with musical examples found in the musicography. The author accepts that many concepts have been greatly simplified in the interest of clarity. For more detail, please consult resources listed elsewhere in this site.

What is salsa music? That is a matter of opinion, musicologists included. You could apply salsa footwork to a number of songs with common (4/4) time of the proper tempo. Some would argue that you would be dancing salsa, others would not. Should you really care if you were all having fun?

What is regarded as salsa music would seem to satisfy loosely, a number of criteria. Salsa is played in common time, that is four beats in every bar. The music is played in two bar phrases, thereby forming an eight-count.

Bass Rhythm
An eight-count is usually played on a tall narrow drum called the conga. In the diagram a chachachá rhythm, played by a number of percussion and bass instruments (including the conga) is used as an example [1]. The chachachá rhythm is quite common, but is by no means the only one. The first beats of every bar, numbers 1 & 5 of the eight-count, are louder as represented by the larger dots. Occasionally beats 1 & 5 can be differentiated from each other as well. The second beat of every bar, numbers 2 & 6, usually bears an accent caused by striking the conga skin sharply. The fourth beat, numbers 4 & 8, is a clear “double tap” (two syncopated beats) played on a different conga resulting in a different tone, as represented two dots off the line. The double tap is part of the signature rhythm of the chachachá that lends the rhythm its name.

Musicians and singers alike should obey the clave, playing notes or stressing syllables to highlight most or all of the clave beats. They should do this even if no clave rhythm actually being played, performing to an imaginary beat. Songs used to be of only one clave flavour; with musicians and singers tending to get a bit upset if a song changed clave intentionally or if cued in incorrectly by the band leader. This is no longer the case. Songs containing changes in clave are becoming increasingly common and musicians are becoming more adept at playing them [4]. The changing clave lends to the dynamism of the song, but renders it less accessible to the novice dancer.

In my experience non-Latin Americans/ non-Africans tend to encounter more difficulty in “picking out the beat”. This is not because they lack the “rhythm” gene. More likely they are used to listening for an obvious beat, played on a whacking big drum, by a specialist drummer. Once they understand that there is no one beat to pick out, and to listen to layers instead, all notion of the phantom rhythm gene is exorcised (Hurrah).

The son played in the older-style without the brass line-up, reveals its roots more readily [6]. Smooth African rhythms roll in the bass lines, headed by lyrics sung co-operatively: lead singers backed by other singers simultaneously, or they might sing separate pieces in alternation. The phenomenon of lead and backing singers taking turns is known as call and response, and is evident in the majority of salsa music, though it is found in other music forms too, like gospel. Andalusian melodies complete the partnership. Arguably most of the Hispanic influence in Latin America came from southern Spain.

Another undeniable influence is the impact of jazz. Introduced into Latin music via the barrios (Latin neighbourhoods) of New York, jazz notes played on piano and brass are testament to the days when the big jazz bands of Machito and his peers played at the Palladium theatre in the ’50s. The African / Spanish / jazz mix is no longer localised to the first point of fusion that is New York, but has spread to Latin America, the Caribbean, Africa, Europe, and as far as Japan. But jazz is not the only flavour, the evolution of the species and its diversification can observed, where charanga line-ups featuring flute and violins [7] can be found alongside pop and rap [8] movements in salsa.

Trends suggest that salsa is beginning to establish an identity in its own right, instead of being considered as a generic term for songs bearing a number of Cuban rhythms. As an example, some works by Colombian artists are now sent to New York where they are “finished”. This is done by adding extra instruments and/or remixing during the final production stages, to ensure that they comply with a salsa formula.

When applying the criteria, you might find that Latin America does not have a monopoly of salsa music production. “Accidental” salsas can be found in the halls of Nouveau Flamenco, Ambient Native American chants, Irish Folk, and African music [9].

I am of the opinion that it is the inclusion, not the exclusion, of different musical influences that has been responsible for making salsa the phenomenon it is today. And it will be the continuing inclusion of musical and cultural influences, such as those accidental salsas above, that will rejuvenate and ensure its longevity tomorrow.

Salsa in its elemental form is danced to four beats using three steps, each one beat long. The remaining beat can either be tagged onto the end of the preceding step (resulting in a quick-quick-slow count), or can contain an adorning movement, called a highlight. Steps can be travelling or on the spot; a bit like groovy walking three paces at a time with a pause thrown in. Walk like that to time and you’re dancing salsa.

Its very simplicity underlies its extreme flexibility; the sheer amount of personal choice. Just as you can walk in any direction you choose, so you can dance salsa on the spot, in straight lines, or in turning paces. The remaining beat can be highlighted with a tap, kick or pause. Note: A step is when you put your foot down and move your weight onto it (foot placement with weight transfer), a tap is when you put your foot down but don’t move your weight onto it (foot placement without weight). In many Latin countries, couples even choose which beat they would like to dance on, and it need not necessarily be the first beat.

All this might sound like rhythmic anarchy and it would be, were it not for one vital constraint. Salsa music and its progenitors has always been music for dancing. Its cooperative heritage has engendered a belief, in Latin America at least, that everyone else has an equal right to enjoyment on the dance floor. This alone prevents outbreaks of destructive mayhem. Instead this attitude (especially towards one’s partner) welds the forces of spontaneity, individuality and musicality together to form the atmosphere that Latin music is renowned for.

Just as the music has maintained its vitality by absorbing other influences, so has the dance. Apart from other Latin dances like the merengue and cumbia (which the term salsa sometimes encompasses), salsa bears some marked similarities with lindy-hop, swing and hustle. It has even proved capable of absorbing elements of ballroom Latin dance and Argentine tango. Quite astounding.

Flavours of Salsa

The way salsa is danced varies significantly depending where you’re from and how you’ve learnt it. In the main, salseros from different backgrounds can still dance with each other, at least at a basic level. British salsa is primarily anchored around the back basic, turns are executed on the second beat after a “wind-up” movement on beat one and are biased anticlockwise. North American salsa is built around the latin basic and many early combinations contain turns to the right. Salsa from the Caribbean and Latin America is presented more commonly as a walk, resulting in a much more circular in movement and the turns being slower. Within this are the main stereotypes of the Cuban and Colombian style, that is having an action that digs deeper into the floor or one that travels lighter above it respectively.

Before we lose our sense of perspective, these generalisations are mean to demonstrate the richness of the dance, not to typecast. Bear in mind that individual styles also vary within regions, so adopting a “definitive” style of salsa and trying to squeeze your students into it would be an amusingly futile gesture.

The problem with learning

People born and raised in a Latin American culture acquire salsa in a passive learning process; through constant immersion. It is my opinion that they come to understand the dance differently: as a series of walks instead of individual moves.

For those who are not fortunate enough to have this opportunity (like myself), we have to learn it instead. As mentioned before, early learning tends to occur best in a structure. To this end you will often find salsa being taught as a series of steps and moves because it is more meaningful to the student. But at some point, a different teaching angle should be used to offer the student an opportunity to look at the dance through a native dancer’s eyes, thereby offering the student the best of both worlds. Often the final process is not carried out, either because its importance is overlooked, or because it is easier for the teacher to carry on in the old manner regardless.

A little comment about leading and following

Social dancing in couples is mainly a phenomenon of Western European culture. By social dance I mean one that has structure but is not executed in the form of routines i.e. basic rules which once understood allows two individuals to dance together and flexibly determine their choreography, even if they had never met before. This demands that each move element of the dance possess a unique identifying start signal. Initiation of the signal and compliance with it results in the co-ordinated execution of the move element by both partners.

When a couple takes to the dance floor, both partners cannot initiate at the same time, neither can they both comply. Therefore one partner initiates and the other complies. This is known as leading and following respectively. Traditionally the lead role has been assumed by men and the following by women, although this has begun to change: where women are forced to lead due to a dearth of men, and because the social roles of both genders are being redefined.

The lead (known as la marca meaning “the mark” in Argentine Tango) for a move can take a variety of forms, usually presenting itself as a change in pressure (increase/decrease) at the points of partner contact, or in the body position of the leader relative to the follower. The most elegant leads are clear and considerate to the follower without being obvious to the casual on-looker. The challenge to the follower, in choosing to comply with the signal, is in finding ways of self-expression whilst dancing within its constraints.

Consequently salsa demands the abilities of lead and follow of its dancers in order for it to be executed on our latterday club floors in a social context.

A History of Salsa
Prologue

It's with a great deal of relief, and a hint of personal satisfaction that I've finally been able to redress a long-standing imbalance - five years is a long time. I'm talking about the most glaring omission in the History of Salsa as it so stood; a suitable acknowledgement of the roles Puerto Ricans played in bringing salsa to the world stage. That's not to belittle the efforts of the Colombians, Venezuelans, the Latin communities of Miami, and those in other centres. I will be presenting perspectives of them in due course.

The emphasis of the new sections, and concomitantly my writing style, has changed. This is inevitable; reflecting as it where an evolution in my understanding of the subject. I feel that it has lent an additional texture to the palette of the discourse.

Originally the plan was to produce one webpage about Puerto Rican musicians, but it soon became clear that the work needed to be split into two to accommodate the two sites of development that were involved: Puerto Rico and New York City. In some respects the pendulum has swung farther away from Cuba than I would have liked, but rather than trim it back, I thought that leaving everything in would serve you better in making up your own mind.

Until the next time.

Loo Yeo
6th June 2006
 

From the number of messages I've received asking for a “history of salsa” and “salsa dance history”, it became obvious that the two previous sections - 'History: Influences' and 'History: Danzón and On' were not enough.

Well, here's the new version at last. Just in case you're wondering, it's not meant to the definitive article; there are specialist pieces with more detail, some of which can be found on the resources page. There are seven sections in all, and they are arranged in order of argument instead of chronology: beginning with Izzy Sanabria's use of the word; then tracing the introduction of Old World and African culture to the Caribbean; through to how Cuba became the focal point of Latin music. It concludes with a personal perspective on both the concept of ownership, and the adaptation of salsa to the UK environment.

I hope you find this version more enjoyable. My thanks to all of you who took the time to write in, your comments and critique are very much appreciated.

Loo Yen Yeo
21st February 2002

A History of Salsa
Part 1: One Man's Word

Latin music was suffering its first major depression in the 1960s. Displaced by Beatlemania, the Twist, and the Rock 'n' Roll craze, it looked like it was never going to recover. Then, as one of those great surprises that only life can spring, a single man's inspiration would change all of that.

Izzy Sanábria worked as a graphic designer at Fania Records, which was then regarded as the Latin Motown. He also MC'd for the Fania All Stars Band and produced the influential Latin NY magazine.

The worldwide sensations of Mambo and Chachachá had prompted a flood of Cuban-derived rhythms fused with Jazz. But the differences between these rhythms were too subtle, indistinguishable to untrained ears. They generated a lot of confusion and only served to fracture the market. A case of jumping on the bandwagon and the wheels falling off.

It was against this backdrop that Izzy realised that all the rhythms needed to be gathered together under one roof, to eliminate the confusion and make the concept easier to sell. He decided to use a term to describe them all and needed one that would capture the imagination and make the marketing simpler. He chose “Salsa”.

His unique access to the spoken and written word proved pivotal in driving the public acceptance of salsa. Izzy used salsa as an interjection while he MC'd, and as a description of the genre in Latin NY magazine. His choice of word was not unreasoned, though salsa does lose a bit in its translation. “Sauce” or “saucy” doesn't quite cut the mustard; our closest equivalent could be to “kick it” or “punch it”. In music, that's what we might say to encourage a band to pump up the energy of a performance.

Izzy didn't coin the word: there has been earlier documented use of the word “salsa” including Beny More's parting phrase “Hola, Salsa”, and the song “Echale Salsita” by Sexteto Habanero. Many musicologists refer to the existence of these prior uses, but fail to tackle why he chose it and to what purpose.

Jazz, a major component of salsa, reveals its roots from the American Deep South with kitchen-derived words and phrases like “smokin'”, “jammin'”, and “now we're cookin'”; exclaimed by band members when they felt a real groove going. “Salsa” might be no different. However I subscribe to the view that exclamations in (the genre that became known as) salsa were used in a more structured manner. The music has some general properties: an introduction, a melodic phase, a more rhythmic / percussive phase called a montuno, a reprise of the melodic phase, and an ending. Exclamations were used to cue changes in phase especially into the montuno, which is the section highest in rhythmic energy. The common cues include “candela” [fire], “salsa” [sauce], “sabroso” [tasty], and “azucar” [sugar]; the latter most famously used by Celia Cruz.

So when Izzy Sanabria chose the word “salsa” as a hold-all for rhythms and (by implication) their associated dances, it already existed as a music metaphor. Salsa was and remains an expression of greater energy and excitement.

But salsa's definition continues to change, a dynamic that students of the field fail to address. It has expanded to include non-Cuban music and dances like Cumbia and Merengue. It has become a symbol of nationhood, political belief, and cultural identity. But what is more fascinating is the rate at which the definition is changing.

The corners of the world are drawing closer. More people from more different countries and cultures are accepting salsa and adopting it for their own, redefining it to suit their needs in the process. It is a phenomenon called transnationalisation. New definitions emerge all the time, join with others, and are reabsorbed in a continuous process. In essence salsa is now a self-redefining term. This has a special impact on the concept of ownership (which I'll talk about later). Evidence from Izzy's own webpages indicates that Izzy didn't intend for it to turn out that way.

Needless to say the idea worked, and through his efforts Latin music experienced a revival. That is until the Fania All Stars performed at the Cheetah Club in Manhattan, which was filmed as “Nuestra Cosa Latina - Our Latin Thing”. The revival became a boom, culminating in the now famous concert at Yankee Stadium to 20,000 people in 1973.

History has not been kind to Izzy Sanabria. The spotlight of our interest seems to have passed him by in favour of others more powerful or glamorous. Perhaps you might think that I overstate my case. I call it a response to others who haven't stated his case enough.

Remember… just one word.

A History of Salsa
Part 2: Turning Westward

A political song and dance
Our story begins in pre-revolutionary France during the reign of King Louis XIV, where he had established dance as a mechanism of political control. To be high enough in social standing to gain favour, the nobility had to know the latest steps as created by his dance master. Dances at court were group activities, possibly to demonstrate agreement with the will of the king. New steps were produced very often, leaving the aristocracy with little choice but to leave members of their families at Versailles to learn them. Effectively hostages, these family members provided Louis XIV with the leverage to control the aristocracy.

The king was himself a keen dancer and the jewels of his dance crown were the minuet and the contredanse. Opinion is divided over how the contredanse got its name: some say it was a corruption of the English “country dance” from which it was descended (circa 1710); others think it was because of the way it was danced, with a line of men facing a line of women in “contra” dance.

Some of the dance patterns saw the man standing on the left, the lady to his right, leading with his right arm around her back, while holding the lady's right hand his left. This is likely to be the origin of the close hold found in all contredanse derivatives, where the lead's left and follower's right arm are held upwards and outwards of the partnership; and the lead's right arm around the follower's waist.

From Versailles the contredanse went to the Spanish court where it was called contradanza. Both the contredanse and the contradanza made their way to the Caribbean during the colonisation of the Americas, to the islands of Hispañola and Cuba.

Here it is important to point out that each island is divided into two distinct parts. Hispañola was divided politically between French Saint Domingue (modern day Haiti) in the west, and Spanish Santo Domingo (modern day Dominican Republic) in the East. Cuba, which lies to the west of Hispañola, is divided geographically. The Spanish colonial administration was seated in Havana in the west. Eastern Cuba known simply as “Oriente” was more difficult to govern due to the swamp-lands that separated them both.

The contredanse arrived in Saint Dominique and the contradanza to Havana. There they awaited the next phase of Salsa's evolution, the African movement.

A religious song and dance
The Spanish monarchy's mandate for rule at home and expansion abroad was religion. Vatican consent to colonisation was granted based on the 'humanisation' of native American Indians through conversion to the Catholic faith. Spain also needed the wealth of the New World to sustain its economy as it waged war against the Protestant Dutch. It was a position the monarchs were compelled to maintain to preserve their right to rule.

But income from the colonies declined. The indigenous Indians, many killed by Old World diseases, were dying through exhaustion. The Spanish thought them lazy but the Indians, having always bartered for what they wanted, could not understand nor adapt to a labour-based economy. Slaves were imported to replenish the workforce, and eventually no more Indians remained. There is little evidence or study of the Indian legacy to salsa, save perhaps the words 'areito', 'Quisqueya' (as a reference to Hispañola), and 'Borinquen' (as a reference to Puerto Rico).

The European colonial nations operated slave-hunting stations down the western coast of Africa and up part of the east. But it is not true that all who traded in humans were white; the fall of Yoruba kingdoms saw its subjects sold into slavery by rival tribes. That was how the Yoruba and Bantu came to Hispañola and Cuba. Both brought their religions and sacred drumming patterns with them.

For political reasons, the Spanish had to demonstrate firm Catholic faith even amongst their slaves. Yorubas had their religious beliefs heavily suppressed but managed to keep them alive by 'twinning' their deities, Orishas, with Catholic Saints. An example is the pairing of Chango - the god of fire, lust and war, with Santa Barbara, allowing slaves to say to their owners, “Chango is the Yoruba name for Santa Barbara”. This practice, called syncretism, resulted in the Yoruba derived religion Santeria that is practiced today. Syncretic references still abound in salsa, for example in the lyrics of “Que Viva Chango”.

Spanish economic commitments required a highly productive workforce, meaning a long time in the fields for the slaves. A Spanish slave had very little religious and social freedom compared with a French slave. One consequence was increased tension on Hispañola where the disparity of liberty between the blacks of Saint Domingue and Santo Domingo stimulated great unrest. The Spanish came to regard the French as threats to their political and economic power-base. The two colonies engaged in numerous invasions and brutal conflicts, generating an enmity that lasts to this very day.

The violence caused the emigration of French colonists westward to Cuba, introducing and catalysing the formation of new rhythms in Cuba. Immigrants settled in the Sierra Maestra, a mountain range in Oriente surrounding Santiago de Cuba. The city of Santiago has a reputation for being a birthplace of political, social and musical revolution. The first wave arrived in the late 1700s following a series of slave revolts on Hispañola. They introduced the contradanza criolla, a Creole version of the contredanse containing African elements in its instrumentation and interpretation. One of its most prominent features was the inclusion of a syncopated rhythmic pattern of five beats called the “cinquillo”. The cinquillo would play a major role in Latin music to come. The second wave of fresh immigrants arrived in the 1850s from the now Republic of Haiti, contributing to the birth of the Cuban Son.

A History of Salsa
Part 3: An African Movement

The Saint Domingue / Haitian contribution to the birth of new Cuban rhythms cannot be fully quantified, but is probably significant since the blacks had more freedom to retain their cultural heritage. It's more than mere coincidence that two important musical developments emerged from Oriente at the same time as arrivals from Hispañola. But conditions in Cuba themselves had to be right to foster these developments. And they were. The remoteness of Sierra Maestra from Havana allowed the blacks more freedom to practice their customs in the east.

The vocal and drumming tradition is central to the religious and social practices of the African people. A key aspect is the idea of co-operative musicianship, where groups of people are involved in an activity. A fine example is the drumming, where particular patterns are identified with particular deities.

An individual drummer would play a specific and unique rhythm; and several drummers, called a battery, would play together to produce a polyrhythm. Each part of the polyrhythm can be complex, and drummers play in a highly syncopated environment, so it's easy for them to lose their place. Every drummer is kept on the right track by being aware of how his own pattern fits with a master pattern called the “key”. As long as the key is present, the drummers are synchronised and the polyrhythm holds together. It acts like a rhythmic “glue”. The large number of African deities required a large number of polyrhythms; which could be easily achieved by varying the parts of just a few drummers.

African polyrhythms are a key component of salsa, and so follow a “clave” [Spanish for key or code] of some form. Common keys are the son clave, rumba clave, samba clave and cua; all descended from the African key. The cinquillo [five beat] and tresillo [three beat] are not claves themselves, but rhythmic motifs that conform to part of a clave.

In an example of polyrhythmic change in salsa, a chachacha can be changed to a pachanga simply by altering the pattern on the congas from “tumbao moderno” [modern rhythm] to “a caballo” [horse gallop]. The difference is quite subtle, and it is understandable why people find Latin rhythms confusing.

Another artefact comes from African ceremonial gatherings where group chants were cued by individual religious / social leaders. Known in Latin music as coro-pregon [call and response], lead singers and group vocals sing responses to each other in alternation. Non-drummers at these ceremonies would still actively participate by stamping on the ground with their feet, knees flexed to absorb shock. The resulting leverage was used to move the hips in counterpoint. The hip action, though toned down to varying degrees, is easily seen in salsa.

Author's Note:
Early in my dancing years, a friend of mine Luis recounted an anecdote that poignantly encapsulates the spirit of salsa. At that time I was having trouble keeping rhythm because my steps were too big.

Salsa was described to me as being originally a slave's dance. They couldn't take large steps because of the short chains between their ankles that prevented them from running very far. So in the evenings when they came together to dance, they did the only thing they could do to keep the dance interesting - they increased the speed of the rhythm.

I was appalled. Until Luis explained that we weren't parodying their misfortune, but celebrating a phenomenon that made great suffering bearable. For a slave, dance was a light in a very bleak existence.

I don't know how much truth there is in the story, I hope there is. Because I still feel the weight of his words in the bitter lyrics and sweet melodies of “El Preso” [The Prisoner] and “Rebellion”.

A History of Salsa
Part 4: Cuba

The means of music making in Cuba towards the later half of the 1800s was geographically distinct. Musicians in the East were itinerant, moving from village to village, rarely having a fixed place to perform. These troubadours who led an unsettled and occasionally hazardous lifestyle tended to be male. They functioned as important sources of news and retainers of folklore. Their instruments were uncomplicated and portable: guitar; tres - a Cuban guitar with three pairs of strings; marimbula - African thumb piano; botija - ceramic drum derived from olive oil jars; and bongos. The music they played consisted of a rhythmic progression of simple chords, supporting improvised lyrics sung to a clave.

These features exist in salsa. The montuno section, which occurs in the latter stages of a song, consists of a two to four chord repeated pattern called a vamp over which is laid lyrical improvisations called la inspiracion [the inspiration]. The skill of improvising vocal commentary to music is called soneo. Vocals are still predominantly male, including the high-pitched nasal chorus occasionally sung as a response called “old mother's voice”. Incidentally, the word montuno [mountain] comes from the rhythmic style son-montuno that originated in Sierra Maestra.

Music in the west was much more European, it was more sedate and arrangements more elaborate. Musicians benefited from a regular performing base with consistent patronage and venues. The component instruments were costly and delicate compared those of the east, and still resembled those of the French orchestras. It was the retention of orchestral structure, instruments and specialist musicians that would later ease the entry of Jazz into Cuban music. But before then, there is just this little issue of collision and creolisation between European and African music.

The greatest leap in the evolution of music and dance came about with Cuba became colonially independent in terms of cultural identity and economy. What was originally a geographical distinction between Oriente and Western Cuba became a vertical stratification in the capital: with European music being played for the white upper classes, and music from Oriente played by the lower black classes. Located in between were the mulatas and mulatos: Creoles or people of mixed ancestry. Here is where the real action was.

Creolisation
The study of ethnic music in the Caribbean had an European bias until as recently as the 1970s, suggesting that it was the inclusion of African rhythms and instruments in orchestral groups that brought about creolisation. In all fairness, the crossover process was probably bi-directional but there would be more documentation concerning the former. The reason is simple: early ensembles avant-garde enough to feature a coloured musician might find that person arrested, thus generating paperwork. Such was the unhappy lot of guiro players in Puerto Rico in the 1850s.

What is significant is that the creolisation process did occur and that it was not localised to Cuba. The use of the African-derived cinquillo pattern, indicative of creolisation, was being found throughout the Caribbean basin. What few appreciate is the length and continuity of creolisation. It began with the early interactions between colonists and natives, and it continues now after nearly five centuries.

Cuban music
The Caribbean cinquillo found its way into the danza and the habanera (cubana) via the contradanza criolla in the nineteenth century. The habanera made its way to Argentina to become a precursor to the tango. The danza evolved into the danzon later that same century, becoming one of the two most important music and dance forms to influence Latin music of the twentieth century.

Rebeca Mauleon describes the danzon structure most accurately in “Salsa Guidebook for Piano and Ensemble” (1993), and hints at the future significance of the other form - the son:

“The danzon form consists of an introduction called the paseo (A), the principal flute melody (B), a repeat of the introduction (A), the violin trio (C). Innovations by several composers led to the addition of a fourth section (D) called nuevo ritmo, later known as mambo. This section added elements of the Cuban son…”

Dances to these forms ceased being group activities and came to be performed as individual couples. There were two major reasons for this: one was a weakening of Spain's influence over her colonies, brought about by Napoleon's invasion of Spain and the disruption of her shipping routes by competing colonial powers. The other was an increased sense of individual identity through new capitalist thought and success. Economic independence brought a new confidence that reduced the need to demonstrate allegiance to the mother country.

The individualisation of dance paved the way for the introduction of African movement in contredanse derivatives. A creolisation of dance occurred which was accepted more readily in coloured communities than by the conservative ruling elite. Thus creole dances became identified as a phenomenon of the underclasses, throughout Latin America: son in Cuba; merengue and bachata in the Dominican Republic; tango in Argentina, bomba and plena in Puerto Rico.

Prerevolution
Fulgencio Batista was the political strongman of Cuba from 1933-1959. It was his close association with two leading Americans that saw unparalleled levels of US interest in the island state. One was Sumner Welles, US ambassador to Cuba and advisor to President (F.D.) Roosevelt. Through him, Cuba became a beneficiary of Roosevelt's “Good Neighbour” policy, opening the door to huge investments from US companies. The other was Meyer Lansky, a key figure of the organised crime syndicates. Through him, the criminal underworld established a large number of hotels and casinos in Havana turning it into the “Latin Las Vegas”.

American influence and the Vegas connection in particular, brought in acts like Ginger Rogers and Frank Sinatra, introducing the next big movement in the formation of salsa… Jazz.

The mambo became a recognised style in its own right, separate from the danzon in the 1940s. An increase in tempo, adoption of Jazz lines, and a shift towards North American brass instrumentation, distinguished the mambo from its predecessor. It soon spread from Havana to Mexico, New York and Los Angeles.

The chachachá was also derived from the nuevo ritmo section of the danzon. Unlike the mambo, it was still interpreted by charanga (flute and violin) bands and remained mid-tempo. The big change was the addition of the conga drum (for more information, see the article Chachachá: Classic Cheek, Classic Chic).

The music of both the chachachá and the mambo carries an accent on the second beat. It is particularly audible in the basic rhythm interpreted by the conga, where a slap stroke producing a sharp “crack” sound is played on beat two. Dances to both rhythms begin on the second beat instead of the first because of this.

Both styles swept rapidly across the world, starting a love affair with Latin American music and dance; upon which the popularity of salsa and merengue rests today.

A History of Salsa
Part 5: Revolution

Cuba
Fidel Castro came to power in 1959. A steady deterioration in relations caused the United States to implement a trade embargo on 8th July 1963 under the Trading With the Enemy Act.

This had a profound effect on Latin music, which up until then had looked to Cuba to lead the way in the innovation of rhythms. Although the interchange of people and ideas was stifled, the embargo did not prevent new rhythms from getting out; most notably that of songo and mozambique. It did diminish Cuba's presence on the world stage, blunting our awareness of the most recent developments in Cuban music.

Article 9(c) of Cuba's 1976 constitution (reformed 1992) interestingly guarantees each person access to education, arts and sport. There is national funding for musicians and venues. How this has benefited Cuban music, we can only guess at through the words of Cuban conguero Daniel Ponce (1980):

“When the Cubans arrived in New York, they all said 'Yuk! This is old music.' I was expecting to find a stronger Latin scene here; the lyrics, the composition, the feeling are not adventurous.”

Three centres of salsa stepped forward into the light: New York, Miami, and Colombia.

New York
Nuyoricans carried the salsa baton forward through salsa's lean years. On the surface it may have looked as if Puerto Rican folkloric genres like the plena and bomba had been forsaken for Afro-Cuban ones. With the exception of the plena, which saw a brief burst of popularity in the late 1920s to the early 1930s, the dominant perception as promoted by the large U.S. record firms was that the Cuban method of playing was the only way. This led to a situation where Nuyoricans were practising music that was not originally of their cultural context:

“Nuyoricans are outsiders to Afro-Cuban folklore, particularly to the religious music, and often get their information second-hand from books and recordings”
- Charley Gerard.

They defined the New York sound, then and today: cementing the influence of Jazz and R'n'B. Second generation Puerto Ricans are bilingual, and many songs of the Latin Bugalu craze were in English. The crossover attempt to gain ground on Rock-n-roll was short lived. Unlike with the French accent, English sung with a Spanish one was never considered quaint by the mainstream. The proximity of barrios to black neighbourhoods continues to promote interchange, ensuring Latin music's continued relevance - for now. But as Nuyoricans become increasingly affluent and relocate from their original points of settlement, salsa is losing contact with the very roots, in its expression of social commentary, that made it popular. Their places have been taken up by Dominicans, whose own interactions with African Americans have given rise to Reggaeton.

Miami
Cubans exiled through the revolution of '59 fled to Florida, less than 100 miles away. The nature of their departure left a number of them embittered and vociferously anti-Castro. Many settle in Miami, in an area now called “Little Havana”. Walking down its main axis of Eighth Street, more famously recognised by its Spanish name “Calle Ocho”, you can hear strains of Salsa all about you. Every March, this place veritably explodes into a kaleidoscope of music and dance: the internationally reknown Calle Ocho Cuban Carnival.

Salsa in Miami is comparatively politicised. The drive behind the carnival and the raising of Miami's profile on the salsa stage, comes in no small part from right-wing political activism. To such an extent that artists with faint links to Castro's Cuba are not invited to perform at the carnival. Here, salsa is a symbol of desire: of a Cuba without Castro.

Colombia
The rise to prominence of Colombian salsa is a story of light and shade. The country's size and geography once harboured entire towns of escaped slaves; no doubt helping to create the base of unique music it has today.

What Fania did for New York, Discos Fuentes did for the whole of Colombia. Unlike in the former which was an island in a non-Latin sea, salsa was free to engulf the cities of Cali, Medellin, Cartagena and Barranquilla. The sheer weight of a whole country as a salsa centre can be felt through its more than fair share of talent and rhythmic innovations.

But the success story is darkened by drugs. Cartel figures used patronage (an age-old Spanish tradition) of salsa bands for two purposes: to launder money, and to purchase some semblance of social respectability. The source of the contributions would have made it difficult to refuse: if you're a singer and your no.1 Drug Lord fan buys you a car as a gift, what're you going to do? Give it back?

Nevertheless, the heavy investment for whatever reason was targeted at salsa's grassroots; exactly where it would do the most good. Young bands and venue managers found they had the resources to promote their activities, driving a broader uptake of salsa in Colombia's social scene.

A History of Salsa
Part 6: Puerto Rico - Island Life

The story of Puerto Ricans in salsa is one of migration, permeated with the process of creolisation, and shaped by forces that were not quite under their own control. Unlike in Cuba, circumstances contrived to award Puerto Rico with the dubious honour of having most of its domestic music produced overseas - despite its rich heritage of music-making. To understand how this came to pass and the impact this has had on salsa, we'll begin by painting a picture of Puerto Rico during the Spanish colonial era: a backdrop upon which we'll place vignettes of incidences and confluences that caused Puerto Rican music to develop along such unique lines.

Colonial soundscape
The regional musics of colonial Puerto Rico were very much determined by its geography and economics. Sugar was grown on the fertile plains of the coast, where the weight of the industry was borne on the backs of large numbers of African slaves. These same people lent of themselves to the music and dances of this area giving birth to the bomba and the plena.

The mountainous interior, sometimes referred to derogatively as "la isla" [the island], favoured the less labour-intensive cash crop of coffee. This was the home of the jíbaro; farmers and itinerant traders who would transport their harvests down to the markets of the larger cities. Their music was the seis and the aguinaldo interpreted on the Puerto Rican guitar called the cuatro. This region, a destination for escaped slaves until as late as the nineteenth century, was strongly independent; so much so that both the jíbaro and the cuatro were later to become symbols of cultural resistance.

The economic lifeblood of the Caribbean was trade by sea, bringing cultural influences and wealth from other nations. The ports like Ponce and San Juan formed the island's cosmopolitan hubs, drawing in domestic produce and exchanging them for foreign goods. Prosperity from trade went into the establishment of music academies, sponsorship of touring opera companies and promotion of light theatre entertainment from Cuba - the Bufos Cubanos. Cities evolved as centres of musical intercourse, the progeny from which reached out to resonate in time across the entire island.

Celebrations and the military
As the Wars of Independence spread throughout South and Central America from 1810 to 1830, Spain strengthened her grip on Puerto Rico and Cuba by increasing her military presence. This action had the serendipitous side-effect of incubating Puerto Rican musical talent. Colonisation of the Americas by the Catholic kings of Spain had been legitimised through Papal approval, blurring the boundaries between church and state. The merging of sacred and secular activity in the colonies increased the number of processions, masses, dances and concerts that were celebrated. In order to satisfy the high commemorative activity, the regimental bands took to sponsoring the development of local musicians, "giving Puerto Ricans of different classes, races and regions both musical training and performance opportunities" (Glassner, 1995). The rewards of such an egalitarian, meritocratic approach would be reaped by Boricuas and non-Puerto Ricans alike for generations to come.

U.S. sovereignty and cinema
In 1898 the United States invaded Puerto Rico during the course of the Spanish-American war, foreshadowing a reduction in the power of the Church and the loss of regimental bands. Municipally-based bands arose out of the upheaval as the new centres of music education, but crucially keeping intact the same open access to training and performance opportunities. It became a source of pride for towns to possess a good band, and the civic competition stimulated elevated levels of musicianship - band members could often play more than one instrument, and all of them could read music. At the same time, leaders and composers of these bands tended to be shall we say "exuberant" parents, establishing large families of musicians such as the Tizols, Peñas, Duchesnes, and Maderas.

Under U.S. control, the island's infrastructure improved, greatly simplifying travel and communication. The composition of popular ensembles reflected this as they began to incorporate performers and musics from other regions, continuing the process of hybridisation that had begun in the ports with European and Cuban music. North American music was also added to the mix, its adoption accelerated by the phenomenon that was U.S.-developed mass media. It first took the form of cinema; an unexpected source of work for musicians who were brought in to provide accompaniment for the silent movies. Soundtracks to the films were shipped as music scores for the in-house ensembles to play. And so it was that performers and audiences alike grew familiar with the foxtrot, the waltz, and their styles of arrangement. Cinema became a 'rite of passage' for Puerto Rican musicians, testing their ability to play the right music at the right time at the shift of a scene - an ability that demanded versatility, adaptability and an extensive vocabulary.

Citizenship and conflict
Puerto Ricans were granted the right of U.S. citizenship with the passage of the Jones Act in March 1917, paving the way for large-scale economic migration to the mainland. The rural-to-urban shift of the populace, which began with the hacendados [land-owners] policy of the Spanish and continued as U.S. companies bought up large tracts of rural land, extended into an exodus off-island with the number one destination being the 'Iron Babel' of New York City.

One month after the Act, the United States declared war on Germany entering World War I. 18,000 Puerto Ricans were drafted into the effort and found themselves, doubtless with some surprise, assigned to "coloured regiments" (sic) due to the starkly dichotomous nature of the host culture, where one could only be black or white. So it was that eighteen leading Puerto Rican musicians found themselves recruited into the famous 369th Infantry 'Hellfighters' band led by the black composer and arranger James Reese Europe. That this was a seminal moment cannot be emphasised enough; the point when highly skilled Latin musicians came into contact with Black American music and learned to play jazz over the course of the Great War.

Radio and the Hurricane
In the post-war depression, attendances in cinemas suffered a sharp decline. The movie houses, whose managers would as likely as not be found leading municipal bands and whose performers included women and minors, began to close as even the wealthy tightened their belts. It was a dark period for Puerto Ricans, most of whom were already struggling to earn a living from their day jobs.

Then hurricane San Felipe II struck, making landfall on the feast day of Saint Philip in 1928. With winds of 160mph (260km/h), the first-ever recorded category five storm tore its way across Puerto Rico leaving 312 people dead, several hundreds of thousands homeless, and nearly half a billion (in 2006 US dollars) worth of property damage in its wake. Certainly this natural disaster applied positive pressure on the Puerto Rican migration to New York, but how much has not been fully quantified.

Picture houses took the opportunity to convert to the 'talking movies' format during the reconstruction, finally putting an end to cinema ensembles. However the change served to increase the public's exposure to foreign music: tangos from Argentina; corridos and rancheras from Mexico; jazz and swing from the States; via the soundtracks of the imported films. Fortunately this transition coincided with the rise of radio, which in the 1930s established itself as the new employer and mass media outlet for popular ensembles. Controlled by U.S. companies, radio became a tool of the music industry showcasing rising talents about to depart for New York and heralding the return of established ones.

In précis
The performers of Puerto Rico had more than mere talent; they had a pedigree in formal musicianship dating back nearly two centuries, and this was so of a significant proportion of the population. Not only were they fluent in a range of European and Afro-Caribbean genres, but they were capable of synthesis between them. It can be argued that musicians such as the brothers Jesús and Rafael Hernández, who were already familiar with 'Cuban' music, and who would also learn jazz in Jim Europe's band, would master the synthesis of both - playing a great part in the genesis of the salsa of our today.

However, there are several steps between then and now, and we'll address them next by looking at the life of Puerto Ricans in the melting pot of New York City.

A History of Salsa
Part 7: Borinquen NYC

We take up this story after the close of the Great War. The 'Hellfighters' have returned to a heroes welcome with a triumphal parade up Fifth Avenue, a remarkable achievement for a coloured (sic) band after distinguishing themselves as goodwill exemplars in France. The band itself no longer exists; it rapidly dissolved following the fatal stabbing of Jim Europe in May 1919. Black music and theatre was on the rise in Harlem and on Broadway, which meant employment for at least some dark-skinned Latin American musicians. And Cuban music, which had been steadily seeping in and building up in the United States via New Orleans, New York and its other ports, was primed and ready to burst into the public consciousness. All it needed was a spark, and indeed it came - in the form of the Prohibition.

Borinquen NYC
There were 35,000 Puerto Ricans domiciled in New York City (NYC) in 1919, and this number steadily grew as economic conditions on the island maintained an outward migratory pressure. Conversely other Latin Americans started emigrating from NYC; returning to their home nations in prospect of better lives as the Great Depression started to bite. With Puerto Rico's economy so closely coupled to that of the United States, Boricuas had no such luxury. By 1930, Puerto Ricans became officially the largest Latino population in NYC with census estimates varying wildly between 45,000 and 100,000 souls.

Musicians followed the influx; their livelihoods tied to their compatriot audiences who would be the consumers of their work. What is more, music was mostly a secondary occupation - there just wasn't enough of a practical living to be had from doing it full-time. Even the greats were erstwhile mechanics, sailors and plumbers. Upon their arrival, performers found a network of social contacts established within the Hispanic community which furnished them with the opportunity to deploy their immediately-useful skills. Musicians would come to play a central role in neighbourhood life, disseminating music that was not limited simply to that of their homeland.

The Spanish in Harlem
Boricuas found themselves living in the same areas, competing for the same jobs, and occupying the same social strata as African Americans. A common sign found in NYC apartment blocks of the time sums up their shared circumstance: "No Dogs, No Negroes (sic), and No Spanish".

Even though racial tensions did develop as Latinos sought to establish their own identity as separate from those of the blacks, their juxtaposition in physical and social spaces sparked interchange between their cultures, especially through musical collaborations. And in this realm, African Americans and Puerto Ricans were worlds apart. The former were less common on the bandstands as, having been denied training and performing opportunities by a then white-dominated American Federation of Musicians (AFM), not may of them had all of the required skill-sets.

With the Volstead Act, the wealthy were driven to drink in Havana. When they returned from their sojourn, they did so with a thirst for Cuban dance which fuelled its explosion in NYC, fixing it forever in popular consciousness. Bandleaders strove to recruit members as ensembles were assembled to satisfy demand and Puerto Ricans, due to their training and musicianship, were highly prized. They became the unseen, unattributed backbone of groups fronted by better-known Blacks and Cubans.

Prime Time
NYC was the epicentre of musical developments in the mass media. It was the major site for the publication of music, a powerhouse of radio broadcasting, home to a large portion of the recording industry, and an early exploiter of U.S. technological advantage. It was thus a unique combination of factors which turned the city into what Ruth Glassner describes as, "the virtual headquarters for an evolving Caribbean sound largely produced by Puerto Rican migrants". It retains much of this status to this day.

But Puerto Ricans were not completely obscured by their playing of Cuban music, nor were they fully eclipsed by the great Cuban names of Socarrás and Bauzá for example. Some of their countrymen did make it to the fore, like Augusto Coen, Tito Puente, and Manuel "Canario" Jiménez Otero, the latter most famous for popularising the Puerto Rican plena outside the island.

Vacuum-packed Cuba
The Puerto Rican surge to the front lines of salsa was facilitated by two things: the lowering costs of music production; and U.S. sanctions against Cuba in 1962. When vinyl pressing and electronic recording became more economical, they created conditions suitable for the establishment of independent record labels, and favoured the small ensemble over the larger orchestras. While large record companies categorised much of their Caribbean music as 'Cuban' to appeal to the mass market, independents could afford to target specific demographic groups; such as Puerto Ricans at home and abroad with music written, arranged and played by Nuyoricans. And now that everything didn't have to be recorded all at once, a small ensemble of multi-instrumentalists could produce a big sound at a fraction of the cost.

The remarkable events that transpired between the United States and Cuba, of which the Missile Crisis was one, caused a deterioration of public goodwill. However audiences stateside still demanded Cuban music, no matter what the name. With Cuban music cut off at the source, a vacuum started to form into which flowed music as played by Puerto Ricans - what was eventually to be called salsa. The impact of these tensions was to strip away the 'Cuban' marketing veneer surrounding Latin music in NYC, exposing a superstructure of Puerto Rican musicians who had been playing it all along.

But then, was this music truly Cuban?

They could play anything
A cursory listening of the music, to its percussion, rhythm and harmonic progression would identify it as being structurally Cuban. And if it were to be judged on that basis alone, then there would be little grounds for argument. However should you hold to the idea that music can also be a multifaceted symbol of identity, then our ears have to listen more intently.

Cuban music is itself a product of creolisation, its multilayered and polyrhythmic structure easily accommodates the embedding of cultural motifs. Gerard (1998) describes Puerto Ricans as outsiders to Afro-Cuban folklore, but that did not prevent them from incorporating artefacts in the music they played which would resonate with their countrymen.

Take for example 'Lamento Borincano' penned by Rafael Hernández as a bolero (an internationally recognised genre) in NYC. The lyrics poignantly describe the plight shared by country dwellers all across Latin America, but employ terms that are specifically Boricua. The song has been adopted into Puerto Rican cultural folklore becoming an unofficial national anthem of sorts, despite being structurally a bolero. In a way, it's not as strange as it sounds when one remembers that Cuban genres have pervaded Puerto Rico since colonial times.

As we delve deeper beneath the surface, we come to recognise that Puerto Ricans did not eschew their indigenous for Cuban forms. They were the archetypal complete musicians who could play anything. They took whichever forms they had to and made it their own by adding the cuatro here, a vocal motif there, singing songs that everyone would dance to but using themes that were uniquely relevant to their compatriots.

If you listen closely, you can hear it in salsa.

A History of Salsa
Part 8: Who Owns Salsa?

There are fewer topics that cause more impassioned debate than the origin of salsa. Everyone claims that their version is accurate because salsa is a part of them. That they own it. So why do we think that way?

Cultural identity
Intercourse between Europeans, Africans and Native Indians naturally created a significant presence of Creoles in the Caribbean. At first these people existed in a cultural limbo: unaccepted by the white ruling elite for having impure blood; and distancing themselves from the black slaves due to the abject conditions the Africans suffered.

But as the colonies diverged from Spain through creolisation, the person of mixed blood came to represent the cultural ideotype. Evidence of this exists:

“[Manuel A., 1849] Alonso's male gaze imagines and discursively constructs a Puerto Rican woman - Creole or mulatta - who possesses both a European-associated languor and an African-derived sensuality…”
- Frances R.Aparicio

but should be examined in the context of its time; a feminisation of literature and music that had occurred due to the male domination of the arts. Aparicio explores further the association of the white woman with the danza, and the mulata with the plena. The culture of the colonies therefore came to be symbolised, at least in part, by the Creole female and the music she was associated with. The common use of the word “mulata” as an expression in salsa belies the music's role in Latin cultural identity. It reinforces male dominance by continued feminisation, and maintains the Creole ideal.

Salsa also symbolises the dream of Latin American unity: the optimism in Simon Bolivar's vision of a Gran Colombia - a single nation of a united people; the reality of a Latin America suffering from fragmentation, persistent lawlessness, economic hardship, political instability; the frustration of a potential unrealised. Ruben Blades alludes to this dream in a brief comment on his live album with Son del Solar. Salsa is an indicator of the great things Latin Americans are capable of. It is the musical identity of Gran Colombia.

The European Spanish are willing to claim ownership of salsa in the face of non-Latins through the tenuous link of sharing a similar language. But the Latin Americans would consider the Spanish as having no such right, given their past differences. Here, cultural identity begins to blur with national identity.

National identity
The use of salsa as a symbol of national identity can be attributed to two main factors: a loss of national sovereignty due to U.S. intervention, and the relative ineptitude of U.S. troops in dance.

Whereas the Monroe Doctrine of 1823 sought to limit European influence in the Americas, the Roosevelt Corollary to the doctrine (1904) sought to justify U.S. intervention throughout the Western Hemisphere. This led to a number of U.S. military invasions throughout the Caribbean basin to protect its political and economic interests. Latin Americans adopted their music and dance as a form of cultural resistance.

For example, the U.S. occupation of the Dominican Republic (1916-24) generated much resentment, causing the Dominicans to adopt the Cibaeño variant of the merengue as part of their defence. However:

“Dominican creativity not only spawned 'lithe and delicate merengue rhythms' that the clumsy U.S. occupiers could not contend with, but generated a new expressive form from the marines' incompetence”
- Paul Austerlitz

Merengue is perhaps the most extreme example of music and dance as national identity, because of the extent to which it was employed. Six years later, the Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo based his entire presidential campaign on the merengue, and promoted it ceaselessly throughout his time in power.

Political identity
“'Save Havana for mañana [tomorrow]” is the slogan of the Miami Cuban who can't or won't go back to Castro's revolutionary Cuba. They are fiercely aggressive in the protection of “their”music, which they perceive as predating the revolution, and symbolic of the good things before Castro. To them, revolutionary Cuba has no right of ownership, and they maintain an anti-collaborative stance to deny any hint of legitimacy.

In contrast, salsa - like the potent image of Che Guevarra, has been adopted by socialist movements abroad. Socialist Cuba possesses a variety of properties that make it a marketing dream: strong records in health, education, and culture; oppression by a foreign “imperialist” government; and subversion by militant right-wing groups. Salsa's origin as music of the underclasses, and its rise to dominance implied through the removal of class structure, make it the ideal tool in promoting socialist ideology.

But nowhere is the issue of ownership more polarised than between Cubans and Nuyoricans. For the Nuyorican, salsa is a term made by them; a music kept alive by them when Cuba lost momentum. It was through their efforts: the music labels of Fania and RMM; the radio stations and clubs; and the live performances that kept salsa going.

For the Cuban, salsa is a word created to disguise the music's true Cuban origin, to deny their right of ownership. American record labels were once in the habit of recording songs by Cuban composers without properly attributing them, using the initials D.R. (Derechos Reservados [Rights Reserved]) instead. Says Charley Gerrard (1998):

“The idea was that, due to the break in relations between the United States and Cuba, the composers would receive the moneys due them whenever relations between the two countries improved. As a result, the general public was not made aware of the tremendous amount of material by Cuban composers recorded by Fania artists.”

The collapse of RMM over unpaid royalties casts doubt on this argument, and hints at corruption similar to that experienced during Batista's regime.

Perspective: Ownership and Possession
There are two interesting definitions of ownership: 1) exclusive right of possession, 2) possession with the right to transfer possession to others. Both concern possession and the right to it.

If there ever was a word that describes salsa's genesis, it has got to be creolisation. Not hybridisation because it's too sterile a term; devoid of the racial, colourful, cultural connotations that “Creole” has.

Given the diversity of salsa's lineage, how can we consider that the Creole belongs to any particular group? If inclusion has been its heritage, what possible benefit to salsa could exclusive possession provide?

The transnationalisation, and local adaptation within each country compounds the issue further. If not now, then soon, salsa will no longer be perceived as “owned” by the Latin Americans. Salsa already means different things in different places - even though it remains the same word. There is a compelling case for saying that no one owns salsa, but at least we can all possess it - every single one of us.

At it's most fundamental level, if salsa is defined by the individual, how could we be sure that your definition of salsa was the same as mine? Instead of telling you what you should believe in, we would both have to try to understand all salsa could be. And if we chose to commit a good portion of our lives to that purpose, then perhaps some time into that pursuit, we would realise that salsa had come to own us instead.

To paraphrase an aboriginal saying: “How arrogant is the man who thinks that he can own that mountain, for it will still be there when he and his children are gone”.

A History of Salsa
Part 9: Salsa in the U.K.

The Brits are no strangers to Latin dance; an entire teaching industry developed out of the mambo and chachacha eras, to feed their hunger for negotiating the ballroom floors. But salsa as we know it landed on these shores in the form of the Fania All Stars in 1976, with a variety of Cuban bands, including Irakere, playing in Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club in their wake in the early 80s.

The Latin Americans
Chileans arrived seeking refuge from Augusto Pinochet, bringing their preference for the Colombian cumbia. Cubans on their way to the U.S.S.R. hopped of the plane during a stopover in Ireland, seeking political asylum. They settled, at least initially, in the west England, in cities like Manchester. Colombians came mainly to London as economic migrants during the early 80s, when immigration rules were relaxed to fill labour shortages in the service industry.

By the time the general public became conscious of the salsa phenomenon, two separate dance communities, Colombian and Cuban, had already been firmly entrenched. As salsa increased in profile, so did a corresponding demand for lessons; causing both groups to vie for dominance in the market.

Enter: the UKA.

The United Kingdom Alliance (UKA) of Professional Teachers of Dancing and Kindred Arts
The social practice of “International” Ballroom and Latin Dance, as codified by the British, was in deep decline. Like salsa in the lean years, it began with a displacement of partner dances by individual ones, starting with the “twist”.

The north of England was encountering economic hardship; and the Working Men's Clubs, once the bedrock of ballroom dance, saw fewer and fewer people. Its capital, Blackpool, where the UKA is still based, developed a reputation as being “chintzy”; a perception that became associated with the activity.

Though the competitive arm of ballroom dance continued to do well, the high profile it maintained (through programmes like “Come Dancing”), in combination with a traditionalist approach to presentation made it more difficult for the public to relate to it. Ultimately, the intractability of the Ballroom dance fraternity to modernise left them increasingly marginalised.

In an attempt to buck the trend, the UKA started a club dance division and commissioned two of its members, Paul Bottomer and Paul Harris, to develop instructional material for tango argentino and salsa respectively. The syllabi they produced were tuned to conform to the teaching culture of the UKA, giving all affiliated dance studios instant access to both markets. The salsa syllabus endorsed the Cuban style and was in turn endorsed by established Cuban instructors.

The UKA's public justification for involvement were: to recognise the existence of a significant dance form and the individuals who helped develop the scene here; to provide a standard in teaching quality; to improve safety; and to introduce personal injury insurance. So far it has had limited success: a number of instructors remain indifferent to UKA recognition; the system of education is archaic compared with sports sciences; emphasis on safety is poor; and awareness of the necessity for insurance cover remains low.

Benefits for teachers
A newly affiliated instructor benefits from a credential that is recognised throughout the British Commonwealth, established during the colonial era. It is an argument that can secure the endorsement of instructors who hope to operate beyond the national boundary. For those already affiliated, it provides the ballroom dance studios with an opportunity to tap into mainstream dance culture after so long in the cold.

In both cases, there is the economic incentive of offering medals examinations - tests to mark levels of proficiency. Revenues are split between the dance studio for providing the venue and student, and the issuing body for providing the examiner.

General impact
The nationwide network of UKA dance studios means that salsa is now available in areas without Latin communities, increasing awareness and access to salsa. There is a fly in the ointment; salsa taught routinely in the ballroom dance studio may not be the same salsa prevalent on the club floors today. A creolisation occurred during the formation of the salsa syllabus when data was adapted to the UKA teaching culture. Claims of authenticity aside, variations in teaching standards and interpretation of the syllabus exist, ranging from the entirely practical to the inapplicable.

One thing the UKA has managed to do is to stimulate the holding of dance competitions, an area that has been its forte, in salsa. Competitions are developing into a useful conduit for introducing new instructors to the salsa scene, based on a commonly held belief that the best dancers are also those most able to teach.

Perspective: State of the Art
Salsa in the U.K. tends to be performed as a social display, as much for the benefit of the onlooker as the partner. A greater stress is therefore placed on turn combinations and shines; rendering the average dancer unadventurous in the use of rhythm, and so involved in the mechanics of a combination as to be fairly inexpressive to music.

Unlike the main salsa centres, the Latin communities are not large enough to provide a critical mass of music makers that could define a salsa sound indigenous to the U.K. Live music is comparatively uncommon, contributing to a situation where dancing is strangely decoupled from the music. This is evidenced by a lack of emphasis in timing by instructors, and the limited interaction between dancers and musicians at live performances. Little preference is expressed for live music over that which comes straight out of a can.

Salsa teaching is vocabulary-based, with very little being offered by way of partnership skills, music, or 'marcas' (lead and follow information). The UKA syllabus is ideally suited to this environment, as it deals mostly with basic dance figures. However, it has hardly a reference on physical education, reflecting little the tremendous advances in the area. More curiously, it sets great stall on the “Cuban” style, but deftly avoids substantial definition or comparison with any other.

The long-term effect of codifying salsa in the hard text of a syllabus could be to accelerate transnationalisation in countries with a UKA presence, and increase longevity as it did with the chachacha. It could turn out to be the U.K.'s greatest contribution to salsa. But if history were to repeat itself, salsa as practiced by the UKA would remain locked in time to 1998 - the year of inscription, while salsa in the mainstream moved on other things. That also happened to the chachacha.

History tells us that changes in social dance tend to follow changes in music, not vice versa. The United Kingdom rests in a colonial state with respect to salsa, culturally dependent upon the major centres of Cuba, New York, Colombia, even Los Angeles. A creolisation is occurring with respect to salsa the dance, but the lack of a specific music identity is preventing it from playing a greater role on the world stage.

A History of Salsa
Resources

Books
Aparacio, Frances A. (1997) Listening to Salsa: Gender, Latin Popular Music and Puerto Rican Cultures. Wesleyan University Pr; ISBN 0819563080.

Austerlitz, Paul (1996). Merengue: Dominican Music and Dominican Identity. Temple University Press. ISBN 1566394848.

Bottomer, Paul (1990). Tango Argentino: The Technique. Sounds Sensational. ISBN 0 9517243 0 4.

Dworsky, Alan, and Sansby, Betsy (1994). Conga Drumming: A Beginners Guide to Playing With Time. Dancing Hands Music. ISBN 0963880101.

Dworsky, Alan, and Sansby, Betsy (1997). A Rhythmic Vocabulary: A Musician's Guide to Understanding and Improvising With Rhythm. Dancing Hands Music. ISBN 0963880128.

Fryer, Peter (1984). Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain. Pluto Press. ISBN 0861047494.

Gerard, Charley (1998). Salsa: The Rhythm of Latin Music (Performance in World Music Series, No. 3). White Cliffs Media Company. ISBN 0941677354.

Glasser, Ruth (1997). My Music Is My Flag : Puerto Rican Musicians and Their New York Communities, 1917-1940 (Latinos in American Society and Culture). University of California Press. ISBN 0520208900.

Harris, Paul (1998) Salsa & Merengue: the Essential Step-by-Step Guide. Sigma Leisure. ISBN 1850586993.

Jonas, Gerald (1992). Dancing: The Power of Dance Around the World.
ISBN 0 563 36411 4.

Mañuel, Peter (1995). Caribbean Currents: Caribbean Music from Rumba to Reggae. Temple University Press. ISBN 1566393396.

Mauleon, Rebeca (1993). Salsa Guidebook for Piano and Ensemble, Spiral edition. Sher Music Company. ISBN 0961470194.

Mauleon-Santana, Rebeca (1999). 101 Montunos. Sher Music Company.
ISBN 1 883217 07 5.

Ospina, Hernando C. (1992). Salsa! Havana Heat, Bronx Beat. New York University Press. ISBN 090615698X.

Roberts, John Storm (1999). The Latin Tinge: The Impact of Latin American Music on the United States. Oxford University Press. ISBN 0195121015.

Steward, Sue (1999). Salsa: Musical Heartbeat of Latin America. Thames and Hudson. ISBN 050028153X.

Sublette, Ned (2004). Cuba and Its Music: From the First Drums to the Mambo. Chicago Review Press. ISBN 1556525168.

Sulsbrück, Birger (1990). Latin-American Percussion, revised edition. Beekman Pub. ISBN 0846433966.

Waxer, Lise (2002). Situating Salsa: Global Markets and Local Meanings in Latin Popular Music (Perspectives in Global Pop). Routledge. ISBN 0815340206.

Williamson, Edwin (1993). The Penguin History of Latin America. The Penguin Press, 1992. ISBN 0 14 012559 0.
 

Videos
"Getting Started With Congas" series with Bobby Sanabria, LP music.

"Latin-American Percussion" by Birger Sulsbrück.

"Nuestra Cosa Latina - Our Latin Thing" produced by Larry Harlow.

"Salsa Nightclub Style" by Eddie Torres.

Web
American Memory Library of Congress
History of Dance
http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/dihtml/dihome.html

Izzy Sanabria's Salsa Pages
http://www.salsamagazine.com/

The Timetable History of Cuba by J.A.Sierra
http://www.historyofcuba.com/cuba.htm

Tuning with the Enemy
http://www.ovationtv.com/cuba/tuning.html

About the Author

Loo Yeo has an integrated skills-based approach to learning; also known as the "have your cake and eat it" approach.

It stems from his belief that you can develop superb technical ability without losing your humanity; and that you can be passionate in your dancing without compromising control. His workshops on the technical development of power, energy utilisation, movement and biomechanics are unique; and draw upon his background in sports education, the human life sciences, and his experience as a former dance competitor.

However, he is better known for the articles that he has written and been quoted from, as a participant researcher and ethnomusicologist. Loo is an educator in Afro-Cuban percussion, and places significant emphasis on grounding dance in its music and cultural context. This approach, and his tireless effort in promoting the appreciation of Latin American culture in non-Latin communities, culminated in his membership of Conseil International de la Dance (CID), UNESCO.

Loo's passion for music saw him become a founding member of the performing salsa band Chévere where he was at various times percussionist, vocalist, pianist and bassist. He is currently the music director and singer-songwriter for the performing and recording conjunto 4 de Diciembre.

Merengue as a music (and dance) form, is most strongly identified with the Dominican Republic. Its spread has been aided, in part, by the large numbers of Dominicans immigrating to the United States, bringing the merengue with them. The merengue, like salsa, is now recognised as a transnational phenomenon, spanning an increasing number of countries in an ever-shrinking globe. As of this writing, merengue outsells salsa by more than four to one in Latin America.

History of Merengue
What is not commonly known is that there are several kinds of merengue in the Dominican Republic alone, and there have been forms of the merengue indigenous to other Latin American countries, some of which have become extinct. The form of the merengue that we are most familiar with originates from the El Cibao region of the Dominican Republic and is called Merengue Cibaeño. It was considered by some to be the music of the underclasses, a little like what bachata is now. The merengue's rise to prominence and acceptance by all classes was stimulated by two key events. The first was its role in maintaining Dominican cultural identity from the time when the United States took over the running of the Dominican Republic's customs house in 1905, which had great repercussions on national sentiment. The second was the adoption of the merengue as a national symbol by the dictator Rafael Trujillo. These factors are largely responsible for the dominant portrayal of the Dominican Republic as the home of the merengue.

Structure of the music
The musical structure of the merengue cibaeno has either two beats or four beats to the bar (2/4 or 4/4 time respectively), although the latter appears to be more common nowadays. In that, the merengue is hardly different from many current musical forms. What sets it apart is the presence of certain traditional signature instruments and how they work in the four beat structure.

The first instrument is a double-headed drum called the tambora. It is placed horizontally across the thighs and played with a stick in the right hand and an empty left hand. Apart from other functions, the tambora is most prominent when playing a drum roll (called a tambora roll) of sixteenth notes between beat four and the beat one of the following bar. The other signature instruments, saxophone and accordion, also play a similar “roll” of notes (a section of their entire role) that span beats two and three, in response to the tambora. Hence the tambora calls and the saxophone or accordion responds.

Note: only a small section of the tambora, saxophone or accordion roles are illustrated.

The effect of these notes played by the tambora, saxophone and accordion, bridging the gaps between the primary beats gives the merengue its “characteristic drive” - Paul Austerlitz (1997). One-row button accordions were originally used in merengue, but were displaced by saxophones on the account of the accordions being incapable of playing in sufficient major keys. Merengue Ripiao, which is a form of merengue dominated by the accordion, made a comeback with the introduction of the two-row button accordions, which have none of the shortcomings that their one-row cousins possess.

Fusilamiento
The similarity of structure between merengue and contemporary western musical forms makes it easy to “borrow” hit songs from other genres and release them with a merengue arrangement. The word “fusilamiento” meaning shooting, assassination, pinching, plagiarism, or piracy is applied to this practice as a negative term. On the other hand, it can also be taken to mean that a song has been fired-up or improved as a merengue. Irrespective of the connotations of the word, there is little doubt that this practice has made it easier for the resulting fusions to be accepted in countries where the merengue is not indigenous, contributing to its popularity and transnationalisation.

The merengue is an extremely accessible dance, mainly because the level of co-ordination between legs and arms is less crucial to beginner dancers than, for example, in salsa. This fact is greatly responsible for the rapid uptake of the merengue as a dance worldwide. People can, with little or no instruction, merengue straight away. Ladies in particular can learn to dance it very quickly, so long as they receive a good lead. In many places, instructors tend to teach off the merengue into salsa by introducing the armwork in the merengue and fitting the footwork later in salsa. This is a little unfair to the merengue, since learning dancers tend perceive the merengue as a poor person's salsa, instead of being a rich dance form in its own right.

History of the dance
Observing couples dance the merengue tells us two things; the partnership hold originates from the Western Europe and the hip action belies its African roots. Apart from that inference there is little specific information currently available about the origin of the merengue. A couple's bodies can vary from being pressed together where only simple steps are performed, or with bodies further apart to allow for turn combinations. Legend has it that the Dominicans tend to dance further apart because they like to show off their fancy footwork, whilst those from other Latin countries tend to dance closer together. What is evident is that the turn combinations found in the merengue bear similarity to that found in other partnership dances. Arguments go on well into the night about whether the moves were borrowed from other dances or if the other dances borrowed moves from the merengue. It's probably safer to assume a case of parallel development; since the human anatomy allows the body to adopt only a limited number conformations (safely), and it doesn't take long to explore most of them.

Basic structure
The basic merengue is danced as a walk, a step being taken with each leg in alternation on every beat. The amount of hip action varies according to personal preference. It is considered an asymmetrical dance because, in the basic walk, the same leg is used at the beginning of each new bar of music. Although many turn combinations can be executed with both partners performing the simple walk, some moves allow the hips to synchronise better if one of the partners performs a null weight change by tapping the foot on the floor instead of stepping onto it. Synchronising hips is normally the responsibility of the partner leading the dance, because it is easier for the lead to do it than to get the follower to do so. Becoming proficient at synchronising hips (and therefore feet) confers and added advantage; that more turn combinations are available in merengue than in salsa, as a result of being able to alter the co-ordination between the arms, legs and transfer of weight at any time during the dance.

Interpretation
Dancing the merengue to time is easy because the beats are usually obvious, but the timing aspect of merengue is kept simple for a reason. It's because the merengue is more than just about stepping on the beats. It's about dancers expressing themselves to music, and the merengue's flexibility is supposed to encourage just that. What happens between the beats of the music is just as important. The tambora roll and the corresponding saxophone/accordion “roll” (from Merengue: the music) form an important part of the rhythm structure, serving to lift the dancers' feet before grounding them on beats one and three (called the downbeats). They are responsible for the two alternating pulses that can be felt in the music. The real trick is dancing in a manner that reflects the rhythm structure, the music pulses and the way the melody weaves through it.

A History of Merengue
Prologue

Trawling through the Internet, I find as many different interpretations for the history of merengue as there are websites. I think it's encouraging that there is no single “definitive” version; actually it just demonstrates the richness and vitality of the genre.

Presented here is a series of seven articles, tracing the early history of merengue as a pan-Caribbean genre, the importance of the Dominican Republic as the main locus for its development, and its transnationalisation because of the Diaspora. It concludes with a personal perspective of merengue in this country, the United Kingdom.

Given the nature of its history, it has sometimes been necessary to allude to certain political events of the time. I'd like to reassure you, the reader, that I have no political capital invested in this work.

Web writing does not allow me to be as comprehensive as I would like. But luckily, if you find your curiosity piqued, I can heartily recommend Paul Austerlitz's book which was one of my primary references. It sets the standard that musicologists should aspire to. You can find details under resources.

I hope that you will find this series useful, whether you're a dancer, teacher or researcher. And once again, thanks to all of you for your valuable suggestions.

Loo Yen Yeo
21st June 2002

A History of Merengue
Part 1: A Dance Around the Caribbean

Merengue today has come to be perceived as a child of the Dominican Republic for a number of reasons. But contrary to popular belief, merengue's early history locates it to multiple sites across the Caribbean:

In Puerto Rico, Cuban marching bands introduced the upa around 1842 which later became known as the merengue. A danza variant containing African elements, the different manner in which it was danced got it labelled as a “corrupting influence” by the local elite. Laws were quickly passed where people were fined and imprisoned for indulging in it. Under such extreme pressure, Puerto Rico's merengue died out within forty years. But it did have the last laugh - its shoes were eventually filled by the Dominican merengue.

Both Colombia and Venezuela developed their own versions, from the late 1800s through to a peak in the 1930s. They were performed more in the coastal areas which hints at an outside influence, but their precise origins remain unclear. The Haitian mereng sprang into existence as a local contredanse derivative in the 1850s, and is arguably one of the oldest forms of the merengue.

Developing dances
At this point I must digress a little to highlight two of the three engines that power the development of Latin American music and dance:

The first is the inevitable hybridisation of African and European practices (creolisation) as a result of colonisation: witnessed in dance by pronounced hip movements while in ballroom (contredanse) hold; and in the merging of heavily syncopated rhythms with ensemble music.

The second is, quite simply, an obsession with food terms. Take for example, the French word “meringue” - a fluffy white confection of Swiss origin. Some etymologists believe that it became creolised in Haiti to the word “mereng” where it was used to describe a music and dance genre, and that it was via this route that the Spanish equivalent “merengue” came to describe the phenomenon it is today.

Historical limbo
If history was shaped by words alone, then French Haiti would have strong claim to being the birthplace of merengue. But as Paul Austerlitz puts it, “In the final analysis, no hard evidence links merengue's early history to any particular nation”. What we can say with certainty is: that the merengue is a truly pan-Caribbean genre, that it is comparable to the Cuban son in age, and that as such it predates salsa by more than a century.

A History of Merengue
Part 2: It's Black and White

Hispanola (alias Quisqueya)
Often regarded as the powerhouse of merengue, the island of Hispanola is split between Haiti (formerly French Saint-Domingue) and the Dominican Republic (formerly Spanish Santo Domingo). These two nations constitute a complex dipole divided by a “Sugar Cane Curtain” whose socio-political tensions have resulted in genocides numbering tens of thousands of people on one hand, and the rise to dominance of one of the most exuberant forms of music known to man on the other.

Although an appreciation of the history of Hispanola is invaluable to understanding the development of the merengue, it remains beyond the scope of this article. I direct you instead to Paul Austerlitz's excellent synopsis “Prologue to the Dominican Nation, 1493-1844” in his book (see Resources).

The problem with Haiti
Suffice to say that between Haiti becoming the first black independent nation in the Caribbean (in 1804), and the fear of a similar slave revolt occurring in Santo Domingo, the Spanish ruling elite was led to deny, demonise and suppress African culture within their sphere of influence. Dominicans became increasingly euro-centric and tended to ignore or downplay African influence because of anti-Haitian sentiment. Until as recently as the 1970s, some Dominican musicologists failed to acknowledge African contributions to the merengue genre.

When merengue first appeared in the salons of the Dominican Republic in the 1850s, it encountered heavy resistance from the intellectual elite. The prevailing dance of the time was the tumba - a stately contredanse derivative performed in groups. In contrast, the merengue was an individual couple dance executed with a “lascivious” swinging hip movement. Its music incorporated African syncopated rhythms similar to the Cuban danza, so much so that the words “danza” and “merengue” were used interchangeably. To the ruling classes, the merengue (danza) symbolised Cuban/Afro-Caribbean cultures whose African (read Haitian) aesthetics they abhorred. Consequently, the merengue found little hospitality in 19th century urban life.

Country music
But uptake of merengue by the rural population (which constituted 97% in 1880) was extremely rapid, possibly because they were already “steeped in African traditions” (Austerlitz, 1997). The physical geography of the Dominican Republic comprises of very distinct areas; their relative isolation and a willingness by their inhabitants to adapt music instrumentation to whatever was at hand, spawned a number of merengue variants that were regionally distinct e.g. merengue cibaeño, pri-prí (merengue palo echao) and merengue redondo.

The Cibao region at the centre of the Republic was economically the most important, had the highest population, and possessed the largest city - Santiago de Los Caballeros. It also held the top spot in the regional hierarchy because its population was predominantly white. Because of these factors, its variant the merengue cibaeño came to dominate all other rural merengues and is the version we recognise internationally today.

Accordion-based merengue cibaeño called “Perico Ripiao” [lit. ripped parrot] became prominent in the 1930s. It is uncertain how it received its name but two theories exist: a parrot is of little gastronomic substance and was used as a metaphor for the musical simplicity of early accordion-based merengue; alternatively Perico Ripiao, a double entendre referring to the male genitals, was the name of a popular brothel in Santiago where such music was often performed.

Entering the 1900s where this phase of merengue's evolution draws to a close, we see a sharp distinction between its acceptance by a poor rural majority, and its suppression by an urban minority (less than 4%) who controlled all education and communications in the Republic.

A History of Merengue
Part 3: Defensive Dancing

U.S. interventions
Financial mismanagement left the Dominican Republic in a precarious state at the beginning of the 20th century, resulting in foreign battleships being sent to collect debts. America, sensing a threat to the security of the Panama Canal, negotiated with the Republic in 1905 to take control of her customs houses and regulate payments to her creditors. The scheme succeeded in restoring economic stability, but Dominicans chafed at their loss of sovereignty.

Tensions between the U.S. and the Dominican Republic increased as powerful Dominicans continued to maintain contact with Germany, and the outbreak of the First World War proved too much for America to tolerate. In 1916, U.S. Marines landed in the Republic (in accordance with the Roosevelt Corollary) to begin a military occupation that would last eight years.

Resistance
Unable to match America's military strength, Dominicans embarked on a three-pronged plan of resistance: guerrilla warfare was waged in the East by local caudillos [warlords]; the upper classes of El Cibao began a campaign to sway international opinion against the occupation; and the nation as a whole established a culturally hostile environment for U.S. forces to operate in. Merengue cibaeño was adopted as a symbol of cultural resistance, celebrating Dominican-ness in the face of U.S. troops in what Umberto Eco aptly describes as “semiotic guerrilla warfare”.

Two dance versions of merengue cibaeño were popular then, and are still currently practiced. The first is sectional merengue cibaeño, which begins with a short paseo [walk] as a signal for couples to take to the floor, followed by a longer European melody-driven merengue section, and ending with a jaleo featuring African rhythmic qualities and simpler chordal harmonies. The second variant existed before the occupation, but received its name during it. U.S. servicemen were famously incompetent in dance and tended to favour a kind of merengue with a simple syncopated rhythm. This became known as merengue estilo yanqui [Yankee merengue] and later, the pambiche - whose name is derived from the Palm-Beach fabric which is mentioned in the lyrics of a popular song of that style.

The upper classes also adopted the merengue in cultural nationalism, although not without changes in instrumentation and arrangement to make it compatible to the waltzes, polkas and danzas of their high society balls. Merengue was part of a movement that heightened nationalism, which in turn deprived the U.S. of Dominican collaborators, ensuring that the occupation was short compared with that of other Latin American countries.

By the time the Americans left in 1924, they had inadvertently succeeded in uniting Dominicans from all social classes under the merengue. But only later would it become a truly national symbol, through the actions of one man: Rafael Trujillo.

A History of Merengue
Part 4: Rafael Trujillo

The man who would become one of Latin America's toughest dictators, Rafael Trujillo, joined the military during the U.S. occupation. Collaborators like him were few, so there were many opportunities for advancement. Trujillo rose rapidly through the ranks, and by the time the occupation ended, the armed forces were very much his personal tool. The eventual American withdrawal created a power vacuum, and presented him with an opportunity that he was in a position to exploit.

Road to power
Dominican politics, which had previously been very regional, was much less so once sovereignty was re-established. This was due in part to the improved communications network and centralised administration that the Marines set up during their stay. (Better communications also had the interesting effect of homogenising the merengue, popularising the cibaeño variant at the expense of other regional merengues)

When Trujillo bid for the presidency in 1930, he campaigned on a national platform not a regional one, and began a process of eliminating regional leaders, and of intimidation and ballot rigging. But his masterstroke was in understanding the power of rural aesthetic forms as symbols of national identity. He based his campaign around the merengue, recognising that the majority of voters were rural and would react favourably to it. Merengue's improvisational properties (similar to soneo in salsa) held the key to politics as a powerful form of social commentary. Trujillo toured the regions with top merengueros who at once praised his virtues and derided his opponents.

Propaganda merengue
Once in power, Trujillo continued to clothe himself in the merengue, promoting it as a national (read political) symbol. Top merengue bands were renamed after him, propaganda songs were written and performed, and his brother Petán was allowed to run a major radio station that broadcast live merengue music. La Voz Dominicana as it was called, played a great role in consolidating national acceptance of merengue cibaeño. Petán's penchant for live music meant that merengue bands seldom recorded, and even then only with his permission. Starved of recording opportunities and dissatisfied with the level of state control, many artists left for Puerto Rico and New York, spreading the merengue and beginning the Dominican diaspora.

Even the upper classes were not immune because they were compelled to play merengue cibaeño at all formal social occasions. Perhaps President Trujillo delighted in this: he was an avid merengue dancer although he was not originally of the Cibao region, and his early attempts to fraternise with the elite while he was of junior rank had been spurned.

Rafael Trujillo kept his grip on power for more than thirty years through his absolute control of the military, and by maintaining popular approval of rural Dominicans through the use of merengue. It did not prevent him from being assassinated as he made his way to his estate in 1961.

A History of Merengue
Part 5: Coming of Age

Trujillo's death brought rapid changes to the development of merengue, not least because pro-Trujillo merengues stopped being played overnight. Instead, songs appeared soon afterward in which he was the subject of scorn. The sedate and formulaic merengues he favoured so much gave way to new interpretations - featuring increases in speed, a resurfacing of sexually suggestive lyrics (based on double entendres), and more aggressive arrangements of the tambora drum and saxophones.

This new edge reflected in part, the political optimism that Dominicans were experiencing, and the injection of fresh ideas - stimulated by the lifting of travel restrictions within and outside the Republic (the most important of which was the arrival of Rock & Roll from the USA).

Johnny Ventura
One young performer, Johnny Ventura, captured the essence of the moment and spearheaded merengue's transition into the popular culture of Latin America. His lack of contact with the Trujillo regime gave his songs a fresh exuberant quality, in stark contrast to those of songwriters who had experienced years of creative repression. Johnny's group, the Combo-Show was also innovative: the “combo” part referred to a slimmer line-up more in common with the Cuban conjuntos, containing just 2-5 brass instruments; the “show” was the visual spectacle - an idea borrowed from the States where all the musicians played standing up, and the vocalists danced whilst singing (previously, all musicians performed sitting down). The Combo-Show format took the Dominican entertainment scene by storm and forced other merengue artists to follow suit.

The onstage act was complemented offstage with a clever marketing strategy masterminded by the band's business manager, William Liriano. He recognised that Ventura's main competition was foreign music over the radio, so he promoted live performances tailored to a target audience of campesinos and barrio dwellers. It was the first time marketing techniques were applied to merengue as a commodity, a practice which was later to assist the transnationalisation of merengue at the expense of salsa.

Shooting toads
The mantle of best performer passed to trumpeter/bandleader Wilfrido Vargas in the 70s and 80s, who presided over even greater increases in tempo. During this era, he encountered stiff competition from the US imports disco and hustle, similar to Johnny Ventura's tussle with Rock & Roll just a decade earlier. Once again, merengue proved able to absorb new influences, this time through two avenues:

The first was fusilamiento [lit. firing, as in the context of a gun], which describes the practice of converting popular Latin American baladas [ballads] into merengues. Fusilamiento is a pejorative term that could be taken to mean the “assassination” of a perfectly decent song. Or it could mean the converse; that a song was “fired up” i.e. given a new lease in life.

The second was increased incorporation of “El Maco” [the toad], a percussion pattern containing elements of Haitian konpa and Puerto Rican plena. El maco merengues have a rhythmic pulse similar to disco, which allowed both genres to compete on an equal footing and simplified the fusilamiento of U.S. pop.

Both fusilamiento and el maco succeeded in maintaining merengue's relevance to the local public during a period of great social change, simultaneously broadening its appeal to new audiences.

Payola
In the 70s, radio was the most important means of disseminating music in the Dominican Republic because the cost of hi-fi equipment was prohibitively high. Radio DJs were not governed by station play-lists and so were free to broadcast whatever they wanted. Inevitably record companies began to “reward” DJs who gave their songs more airtime (or competing songs less), a practice that became known as Payola.

Payola is a pun derived from the “Playola” music label that was found in jukeboxes - it implies that you have to pay to hear the music you want. Merengues used to receive airplay only during the weekends but soon came to be heard at all hours of every day, simply because DJs did not receive payment for playing foreign music. Payola unwittingly promoted local music over imports, ingraining merengue in the Dominican national consciousness.

Juan Luis Guerra and 4.40
The Dominican Republic's greatest son was not born of lower class parents, and yet his music succeeded in bridging the gap between the privileged and the not. A graduate from the Dominican Conservatory and Berklee College in Boston, Guerra draws upon an eclectic mix of Caribbean sounds and jazz to produce songs that transcend class boundaries.

Undoubtedly his greatest gift is in writing merengues and bachatas through which he succeeds in drawing in audiences from different social classes: party music for the masses, coupled with acute lyrical commentary for the intelligentsia. Guerra calls his music “el merengue dual” [dual merengue], meaning music to make you dance and think at the same time.

Although he is sometimes criticised for popularising bachata without making audiences aware of its underclass origins, the fact remains that Guerra and his quartet 4.40 formed a major conduit through with bachata achieved pan-American recognition and prominence.

A History of Merengue
Part 6: Merengue Moves Abroad

The Dominican diaspora
Trujilloist dictator Joaquín Balaguer assumed power in 1966 with the assistance of U.S. intervention. During his government, the outflow of Dominicans that began under Trujillo grew to a flood with the collapse of land reform policies, a burgeoning population, the presence of pro-government death squads, and the “leave or 'disappear'” policy aimed at Balaguer's opponents. The diaspora coincided with a relaxation in U.S. immigration policy, so economic and political migrants found their way to New York City and the associated free state of Puerto Rico.

Puerto Rico has a history of adopting other Caribbean musics in preference to her own bomba and plena. It was the same with merengue cibaeño, which Puerto Ricans had been playing for years before the diaspora; well enough for some bands to have gained acceptance by the Dominicans themselves. Merengue eventually became part of Puerto Rican culture (as salsa did) establishing the island as a centre for the genre, creating a market that immigrating Dominicans could supply.

By the 1990s, nearly a million Dominicans lived in New York, making it the city with the second largest Dominican population in the world. Dominican York, as it was called, developed into another centre for merengue in parallel with Puerto Rico, but its contribution to the growing genre extended far beyond just providing a demand for merengue. The juxtaposition of hispanic and black communities saw a trading of ideas which spawned new movements in merengue-house and merengue-rap. New York also had the necessary musicians, recording facilities, mass media and distribution networks to help merengue overcome resistance from key figures in the music industry and salsa.

Cultural ties
Immigrant populations tend to face an erosion of cultural identity over successive generations, as witnessed in the Puerto Ricans of New York. Dominicans share a similar fate, but are trying to mitigate it by using the merengue as a cultural link to the Republic. For them the merengue is more than just a music and dance - it's a nostalgic and ethnic reminder of who they are and where they come from. Perhaps this has helped the merengue to avoid the crisis of legitimacy that salsa endures today: merengue cibaeño is Dominican, a fact affirmed by them at every opportunity, to the acknowledgement even of Puerto Ricans who play it so well and have absorbed it into their own culture.

Merengue displaces salsa
Salsa in the late seventies was suffering a bout of creative depression, inflicted by the formulaic output of the major record labels. Salsa suave, salsa erotica and salsa romantica were the mainstays of the era: with lyrics that were virtually identical between songs, music that was uninspiring, and sung by artists with small voices. Salsa, whose appeal had once been its relevance to urban life, had lost touch with its audience; causing second generation Puerto Ricans to abandon Latin music in favour of mainstream pop.

The arrival of merengue came as a breath of fresh air when salsa was at its most vulnerable. It was, then, what salsa used to be: a driving contemporary sound, with lyrics describing real events, and performed by personalities of substance. Merengue's rhythmic structure, which is similar to pop, also ensured its musical relevance - it made “covering” non-Latin hits and adopting the latest musical trends both easier and quicker. Furthermore, an effective marketing system (pioneered by William Liriano) helped merengue bands displace their salsa rivals at live venues, giving it greater exposure. But probably the biggest competitive advantage merengue has over salsa is that it's much easier to learn. As former New York mayor Ed Koch puts it, the merengue is “the one dance you can do from the moment you're born”.

Perspective: merengue in Europe
The transnationalisation of merengue is clearly carried more on the back of Dominicans than any other Latin American nationality, bar Puerto Ricans. And while they have been extremely effective in supplanting salsa in the Americas, the same cannot be said for merengue's impact on the Old World. It remains to be seen whether Dominicans have a reach long enough to displace salsa without first establishing a centre somewhere in Europe. I suspect not. Personally, I'd look forward to a stronger Dominican presence, so that more of us can experience their culture through their music and dance.

A History of Merengue
Part 7: Merengue in the U.K.

Perspective
The immense popularity that merengue enjoys over salsa in the Americas is not experienced here. Rather the converse is true, merengue is outplayed and out-danced by salsa greater than one to eight. To understand why, it's important to be aware that there are actually two scenes in the United Kingdom: one formed by a majority of British nationals who actively learn to dance; and another comprising a minority of immigrant Latin Americans. Merengue is accepted much more readily by the latter, and the difference is easy to explain.

The majority
Instructors catering for the British market, including those from Latin America, teach off the merengue into salsa. Most lessons are conducted in a pre-club atmosphere, where teachers are under considerable pressure to get people with little dance experience to be able to execute a complex combination at the end of one hour. At the start of the lesson a teacher might say, “let's start with something simple like a merengue” and students would walk through the arm work of a combination to a merengue tune. After that, the teacher might say “Now, let's (make it harder and) fit it to salsa music”, at which point students would try the arms with footwork. Merengue is inadvertently made to look as a dance that only beginners perform, and salsa as the dance to aspire to.

Merengue is seldom learned as a dance in its own right.

The minority
Merengue is performed more by those who have acquired their dance skills: Latin Americans, and those who have had prolonged contact with them. Unfortunately the diaspora hardly touched these shores, so there are few Dominicans who take an active role in promoting merengue as part of their cultural heritage.

The challenge
Slap on a merengue track at a dance and the contrast in attitude is plain to see: the British taught dancers sit down and the Latin Americans get up. Curiously enough, untrained Brits get up and dance too. Maybe they lose their will to merengue somewhere along the road to salsa proficiency.

Salsa is about moves, and merengue is about movement - and any teacher worth his or her salt would say that it's more challenging to improve the quality of dance movement than it is to teach a combination. It's unfortunate that merengue does not have the popularity it so richly deserves, nor does it seem as if instructors are rising to the tougher challenge of improving movement quality. I hope it happens, because if history were anything to go by, merengue would inject a greater vitality into the U.K. Latin scene.

A History of Merengue
Resources

Books
Aparacio, Frances A. (1997) Listening to Salsa: Gender, Latin Popular Music and Puerto Rican Cultures. Wesleyan University Pr; ISBN 0819563080.

Austerlitz, Paul (1996). Merengue: Dominican Music and Dominican Identity. Temple University Press. ISBN 1566394848.

Fryer, Peter (1984). Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain. Pluto Press. ISBN 0861047494.

Gerard, Charley (1998). Salsa: The Rhythm of Latin Music (Performance in World Music Series, No. 3). White Cliffs Media Company. ISBN 0941677354.

Harris, Paul (1998) Salsa & Merengue: the Essential Step-by-Step Guide. Sigma Leisure. ISBN 1850586993.

Jonas, Gerald (1992). Dancing: The Power of Dance Around the World.
ISBN 0 563 36411 4.

Mañuel, Peter (1995). Caribbean Currents: Caribbean Music from Rumba to Reggae. Temple University Press. ISBN 1566393396.

Mauleon, Rebeca (1993). Salsa Guidebook for Piano and Ensemble, Spiral edition. Sher Music Company. ISBN 0961470194.

Mauleon-Santana, Rebeca (1999). 101 Montunos. Sher Music Company.
ISBN 1 883217 07 5.

Sulsbrück, Birger (1990). Latin-American Percussion, revised edition. Beekman Pub. ISBN 0846433966.

Williamson, Edwin (1993). The Penguin History of Latin America. The Penguin Press, 1992. ISBN 0 14 012559 0.
 

Web
American Memory Library of Congress
History of Dance
http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/dihtml/dihome.html

Tambora y Güira
http://www.mindspring.com/%7Eadiascar/musica/merhst-e.htm

About the Author

Loo Yeo has an integrated skills-based approach to learning; also known as the "have your cake and eat it" approach.

It stems from his belief that you can develop superb technical ability without losing your humanity; and that you can be passionate in your dancing without compromising control. His workshops on the technical development of power, energy utilisation, movement and biomechanics are unique; and draw upon his background in sports education, the human life sciences, and his experience as a former dance competitor.

However, he is better known for the articles that he has written and been quoted from, as a participant researcher and ethnomusicologist. Loo is an educator in Afro-Cuban percussion, and places significant emphasis on grounding dance in its music and cultural context. This approach, and his tireless effort in promoting the appreciation of Latin American culture in non-Latin communities, culminated in his membership of Conseil International de la Dance (CID), UNESCO.

Loo's passion for music saw him become a founding member of the performing salsa band Chévere where he was at various times percussionist, vocalist, pianist and bassist. He is currently the music director and singer-songwriter for the performing and recording conjunto 4 de Diciembre.

Afro–Cuban 6/8
Derived from West African sacred music, it has its own clave pattern consisting of a syncopated seven beat pattern over two bars of music. This clave pattern is though to be the ancestor of the Cuban patterns.

Bachata
Popular dance rhythm from the Dominican Republic. Often typified by a jangly guitar line and simple arrangements played in 4/4 time. Does not obey clave.

Bolero
A balladic dance rhythm. The four beat pattern is accented on 2,3+,4,4+ with the congas. Member of the son rhythm group. Considered slow–tempo at about 80–110 bpm. This style is commonly described as "Rhumba" (rumba with an "h") in ballroom dancing. Also used to describe a cut of jacket (have they no shame?).

Bolero Cha
Also known as Bolero Rítmico. A compound rhythm played in the transition between bolero and chachachá. Therefore it has 4/4 time and is a member of the son rhythm group.

Bolero Rítmico
See Bolero Cha.

Bomba
A folkloric form from Puerto Rico. The four beat pattern is played on squat drums called bombas with accent on beat four. Can be considered to have a clave equivalent pattern called cuá.

Carnaval
A gathering with music and dance, percussion is provided using improvised instruments such as frying pans and bells.

Chachachá
A dance rhythm with even accentuation on all four beats in every bar. Also tends to have an accent on the "and" of beat four (4+). Typically mid–tempo at about 100–140 bpm. Member of the son rhythm group. First popularised by the charanga bands of the 1950s. Supposedly derived from the montuno section of the danzón with the congas present.

Changüi
A faster variant of the son, from Guantanamo in the east of Cuba.

Compound rhythms
Describes the formation of a rhythm or style by merging two or more others e.g. guajira–son, guaguancó–son, merengue–cha.

Conga (de comparsa)
An up–tempo heavily syncopated Cuban carnaval rhythm and dance. Originally a comparsa was a slaves march, permitted only on special occasions. Comparsa now refers to the group that play the rhythm. Dissimilar to 1–and–2–and–3…Four! rhythm popularised in Florida.

Cumbia
An extremely popular dance rhythm from Colombia but also popular in Chile and Mexico amongst others. Often classified as salsa, played in 4/4 time with a heavy beat one and accentuated beats three and four, giving a loping rolling rhythm similar to "riding a horse".

Danzón
An involved and ornate Cuban music form of West European ancestry developed in the 19th century (see related article).

Dominican Merengue Complex
Rural merengue variants: merengue de atabales in 12/8 time, merengue redondo in 4/4 time, meregue ocoeño in 4/4 time. Rarely performed or obscure rhythm and dance styles with independent couple choreography. (As described by Austerlitz, Paul. 1997)

Guaguancó
The best known and most popular rumba form danced in couples. Born in the cities, its versatility has allowed modern bands easily to adapt and play it. It is mid to up–tempo, played to 4/4 time.

Guajira
Similar to the son with vocals as a form of social commentary to guitar accompaniment. Originally from the countryside. The urbanised version that we hear today is played in 2/4 or 4/4 time and is rhythmically similar to the son montuno but slower.

Guaracha
The modern guaracha is played in 4/4 time. The lyrics are lewd, satirical or silly providing social and political commentary.

Mambo
An up–tempo dance rhythm typically 190+ bpm. All four beats are evenly accented. Member of the son rhythm group. It was the mainstay rhythm of the Latin big brass bands during 1940s. Some believe that it originated from a section of the danzón. It is also Congolese for "trouble".

Merengue
An umbrella term for rhythms and styles (including rural musics) that originate mainly from the Domincan Republic. It encompasses hybrids of Merengue Cibaeño and popular western dance rhythms.

Merengue Cibaeño
A dance rhythm and style from the El Cibao region of the Dominican Republic (see separate article). Written in 2/4 or 4/4 time, it is an extremely versatile form that hybridises easily with western popular music.

Mozambique
A Cuban carnaval dance rhythm traditionally played with percussion instruments only.

Montuno
Strictly speaking not a rhythm itself but a phase in the playing of music. In this part of the song, the melodic instruments are less prominent and the percussion takes on a more driving pulse.

Miscellaneous notes

Bpm: beats per minute as danced.

Counts: to a four beat bar would be 1–and–2–and–3–and–4–and– (vocally), in notation would be 1,1+,2,2+,3,3+,4,4+.

Call and Response: where the lead singer or drummers improvise in alternation with the chorus creating a musical dialogue. 

Pachanga
The 1960s incarnation of the chachachá, still played by the charanga bands. Its signature is a conga pattern called "caballo" (literally meaning "horse").

Plena
A Puerto Rican music and dance form, used as a vehicle for social and political commentary. Traditional plenas include the pandereta, a tambourine–like frame drum without the jangles. Normally played in 4/4 time, and has no clave.

Pri–Prí
Also known as Merengue Palo Echao. The most enduring variant after Merengue Cibaeño, and still practised today. Found in the east and south of the Dominican Republic, it is a rhythm and dance performed to 12/8 time.

Rumba Abierta
General term used to describe rumbas played at up–tempo.

Rumba Columbia
Originating in the countryside, it is performed by a single male dancer. It is up–tempo and played in 6/8 time. Sung in a mixture of African and Spanish.

Rumba rhythm group
Secular music and dance performed at informal gatherings. All members of this group have 4/4 time unless specified otherwise. They obey a five–beat syncopated pattern over two bars of music called rumba clave. All rumbas operate a call–and–response pattern between lead singers, drummers, and drums. In order of speed the better known rumba types are: yambú, guaguancó, Rumba Columbia, and Rumba Abierta.

Salsa
An umbrella term encompassing a myriad of mid to up–tempo Afro–Cuban and Latin rhythms and styles including: chachachá, mambo, son, cumbia, guajira, guaracha, songo, which may sound similar to untrained ears. For a more detailed treatment, look up the separate article.

Son
A style of music where the performers originally improvised their lyrics as social commentary. Based on melodic lines from the west, particularly Spain, and rhythms from Africa.

Son Montuno
The most famous variant of the son after its urbanisation, arguably when it was performed by septeto or conjunto bands. In this instance, montuno refers to the mountains in eastern Cuba.

Son rhythm group
All members of this group have 4/4 time and obey a five–beat syncopated pattern over two bars of music called son clave. These rhythms include son, bolero, chachachá, and mambo.

Songo
A fusion of elements of rumba, son, jazz and funk. The bands playing this style usually bear electronic instrumentation. The development of songo is attributed to Juan Formell and his band Los Van Van.

Yambú
Originating in the cities, it is probably the oldest rumba form and is performed by couples. Also called Rumba de Cajón (box rumba) because the percussion used to be played on wooden boxes similar to flamenco. It is slow to mid–tempo in 4/4 time and sung in Spanish.

Miscellaneous notes

Bpm: beats per minute as danced.

Counts: to a four beat bar would be 1–and–2–and–3–and–4–and– (vocally), in notation would be 1,1+,2,2+,3,3+,4,4+.

Call and Response: where the lead singer or drummers improvise in alternation with the chorus creating a musical dialogue. 

Charanga
Became extremely popular in the 1950s because of its sweeter sound when the brass section was substituted with violins and the Cuban ebony flute. The vallenata variant from Colombia features the accordion.

Percussion: timbales, güiro, conga.
Bass: piano, bass.
Melody: violin, flute, accordion.

Percussion: drum kit, congas, timbales (plus other assorted Cuban percussion)
Bass: piano, bass.
Melody: saxophone, trumpet, electric guitar.

Percussion: congas, bombo, sartenes, campana.
Melody: trumpets, corneta china (chinese trumpet).

Percussion: conga, bongó, güiro, maracas, clave.
Bass: piano, tres, bass.
Melody: three or four piece brass section, usually trumpet.

Percussion: conga, timbales, bongó (and campana), maracas, clave.
Bass: piano, bass.
Melody: brass, strings, woodwind.

Percussion: conga, cajón, palitos, cucharas, clave, shaker.
Bass: botíja.
Melody: guitar.

Percussion: güiro, timpani (later replaced with timbales).
Bass and melody: brass, strings, woodwinds.

Percussion: bongó, maracas, clave.
Bass: contrabass.
Melody: guitar, tres, trumpet.

Percussion: bongó, maracas, clave.
Bass: contrabass.
Melody: guitar, tres.

Percussion: bongó, maracas, güiro and clave.
Bass: marimbula (African thumb piano) and botíja (a ceramic oil jug).
Melody: guitar, tres, and later trumpet.

As a person who is just embarking on learning something new, it can be a little difficult assessing the standard of teaching you are receiving. This also applies to more developed dancers who have only been taught by one teacher, since there are no other points of reference. It is also true that a different method of teaching takes a little while to get used to, and so your first lesson with another teacher is naturally taken with some caution.

We feel that assessing the quality of instruction you are receiving is your right, and that it should be exercised. To help you do so, here are the top five questions that we teachers would like see answered with a resounding YES.

Scoring based on number of YES answers:
1 poor; 2-3 average; 4 good; 5 very good.