More than 3 years
after the death of Cuban singer Celia Cruz, the public's
fascination with her lives on. Almost weekly, it seems,
we get a new book, DVD documentary or CD compilation summoning
up the woman whose career spanned more than half a century.
It's no cliché to say Cruz was one of a kind.
This
grande dame was the only female vocalist to achieve
broad acceptance and sustained success in the male-dominated
world of Afro-Caribbean music.
After Cruz, salsa is all testosterone, or so it seems.
Her voice had a husky timbre - manifested in her guttural
trademark growl of "Azucar!" - that suited modern salsa,
an inherently aggressive genre, like rap or rock. But
she had something that her male counterparts could never
muster, a maternal tenderness that melted even the most
hard-bitten barrio street fans.
Cruz
was the queen bee among competitive men who never challenged
her preeminence. Without her as a unifying figure, the
salsa scene seems scattered and somehow smaller. Her
absence accentuates a great void in salsa music - the
virtual lack of successful female artists. And it begs
a question rarely asked while she was alive: Who are
the pretenders to the still-vacant throne of the Queen
of Salsa?
Even
the most ardent salsa fans would be hard put to name
three legitimate candidates from the salsa world. Cuba
is the only country that has groomed a new generation
of female salsa singers, some very talented, but the
political climate has made it difficult for them to
find fame beyond the island.
The
kings of salsa performing quimbara in africa with
Celia Cruz on lead vocals !
Perhaps
the best known of the new Cuban generation is Haila
Mompie, ex-vocalist with the popular timba band Bamboleo.
But there are others worth rescuing from relative anonymity,
including two of the best: Lucrecia and Yaqueline Castellanos,
who live in exile in Europe.
Of course, some say Cruz is irreplaceable - not only
for her sweet and sonorous voice, drenched in Cuba's
African roots, rhythm and religion, but also for her
special charm that endeared her to generations of fans
regardless of age, color or politics.
Over
time, the music changed, but Cruz didn't. She embodied
Old World values in her ladylike demeanor. As a single
woman, she always had a chaperon. From the mid-'60s
on, she usually appeared onstage with her husband, Pedro
Knight, who guided her career and guarded her image.
Paradoxically, says one salsa historian, the secret
to Cruz's longevity lies in the conservative female
role she played in a male-dominated business.
"Oye
Como Va"
"Celia
was a product of her time," says New York-based writer
and researcher
Aurora Flores. "She was very, very protected. And she
was the good girl. She
was not a troublemaker. She wasn't a diva. Whatever the
guys said, that's
what she would do."
Celia Cruz - "La Negra
Tiene Tumbao""
Those
qualities helped her rise above an environment
in which women are considered mere perks for male
performers, along with drugs and alcohol, says
Flores. Cruz was so reserved she never said
how old she was, joking that ladies don't admit
their age. Like soul singer Aretha Franklin, she
sometimes ignored the effects of age by occasionally
squeezing into gowns too tight for her bulging
figure. But as with jazz stylist Ella Fitzgerald,
the essence of Cruz was her femininity, not her
sexuality.
As counterpoint, Flores cites the tragic case
of the late Guadalupe Yoli, better known as La
Lupe, another Cuban exile who briefly overshadowed
Cruz in the New York salsa scene of the 1960s,
when both women recorded separately with Tito
Puente. Far from deferential, La Lupe was "on
the wild side," notes Flores. She was married,
but "you didn't see her with her husband." Onstage,
she disrobed, yanked her hair, bit herself and
beat her musicians. Offstage, she was outspoken,
used drugs and had affairs. In other words, she
behaved like the men. Her career soon crashed
and she became destitute and homeless. La Lupe
died in 1992, just as the fourth phase of Cruz's
career was about to take off.
"The industry tore her apart," recalls Flores of La
Lupe. "They blacklisted
her. They closed the doors on her.
The men could not deal with her sexuality, her outspokenness
and her own sense of who she was as an artist,
her demands."
Celia Cruz singing "Toro
Mata" - 'famous black Peruvian song'
The
search is on! No other major female lead singer
emerged on the salsa scene until the early 1990s,
when Eddie Palmieri introduced La India (born
Linda Caballero), a Nuyorican who got her start
in Latin house and hip-hop. >From the
start, she was groomed as a young Cruz, crowned
not too subtly as "La Princesa de la Salsa." For
a time, the women recorded for the now-defunct
RMM label, and they were often paired onstage.
But the strategy only highlighted the younger
singer's screechy shortcomings. La India
never had Cruz's vocal range, charisma, rhythmic
prowess or - and this is crucial - her ability
to improvise. In salsa, singers are prized for
their talent as impromptu lyricists during the
call-and-response portion of salsa songs.
Cruz was a master of the art that requires imagination
and split-second timing.
VICTOR
MANUELLE'S 'TRIBUTE TO CELIA CRUZ'
Victor
Manuelle pays tribute to the legendary Celia
Cruz...he truly is a great sonero
After RMM
went bankrupt, Cruz continued to find late-life
success on Sony. Meanwhile, La India, who had
defied male record executives by refusing to lose
weight, dropped from sight in the late '90s. Though
she continues to record, she has not reclaimed
her popularity.
The only
other U.S.-based female salsa artists who come
close to Cruz's fame are Albita and Gloria Estefan.
But Estefan is more of a pop singer, certainly
not a sonera, as salsa's improvisational singers
are known. And Albita, though talented, never
found a wide audience.
Even Puerto Rico, an island hotbed of salsa, has
not produced a female lead singer of any major
significance in recent memory. That leaves only
one place left to look - back to Cruz's native
Cuba. As usual, Cuba is an anomaly. In recent
years, it produced several excellent female performers,
some of who not only sing but arrange, compose
and play instruments. The problem is they're known
only to the most die-hard Cubanophiles who travel
to Cuba or track down their hard-to-find records
through European outlets. Cuba has had a tradition
of women in salsa, starting with the first all-female
salsa band, Septeto Anacaona. Formed by seven
sisters in 1932, the band continues to this day,
infused with new members and new musical styles.
Celia Cruz - "La Vida
Es Un Carnaval"
Among
recent Anacaona alumni is Lucrecia, a pianist
and songwriter who moved to Barcelona about 10
years ago and launched a solo career. She is perhaps
the most polished of the new singers, with a silky,
jazz-influenced style and a fashionable look,
her hair in multicolored braids. In Spain, Lucrecia
has made several wonderful, well-produced solo
albums and collaborations, including one with
percussionist Patato and Paquito D'Rivera titled
"Tres Generaciones."
'TRIBUTE
TO CELIA CRUZ'
The last public appearance of Celia
Cruz on stage, before her death. A tribute
from famous latin singers. Dona Celia,
la reina de la salsa, ... all »
the queen of salsa, la guarachera de america
saying good bye to all of us as usual
on the stage and with sabor y AZUUCAAA...!!!
"It wasn't easy in Cuba either, because this whole
pop music thing is more masculine," says the singer
by phone from her home in Barcelona. "But after
[the revived] Anacaona came out, a bunch of women
groups appeared. It was amazing." (Among the female
bands that have cropped up in Cuba recently are
Son Damas and Las Cecilias.)
Celia Cruz - Azuca Medley
Lo mejor de Celia Cruz!!!
A mix of Celia Cruz's best songs... The Best!
Castellanos, who left
Cuba in 1995, believes women and men of equal
talent have an equal chance in the business.
Success depends on good promotion, she says,
and luck. Her luck, however, has not been the
best, she says. In Havana, her 1992 debut CD
established her credentials as a genuine sonera,
winning top honors from EGREM, the Cuban government
record label. But it only came out in cassette,
she says, because of a shortage of vinyl.
Castellanos recalls listening to smuggled cassettes
of Cruz, whose music was banned for a time in
Cuba. She had dreams of performing with the
queen onstage at Havana's Carlos Marx Theater.
But her only chance to meet the late star, a
festival in Spain, was doused by rain, says
Castellanos, who moved to Germany with her new
husband and grown daughters, also musicians.
Victor
Manuelle's acapella 'farewell'
tribute to Celia
Cruz
He
sings this in honor of her death and life.
It's very emotional and brought me to
tears.
"Today, the new generation of Cuban women is
making its mark," said
Castellanos recently from her home in Stuttgart,
where she performs with her
husband's band, Tokame. "But to replace Celia,
that would be too much of a
challenge. I'll follow her path, but to say
I could take her place, I don't dare."