Salsa
There are a bunch of Peruvians in the Bay Area, maybe 20,000 if you believe some people. I know some of them because when I came here in 92 my brother-in-law Paul hooked me up with a semi-pro salsa band that was mostly Peruvians. I hadn’t been playing my bass outside the house for most of my New York years, and I’d missed it more than I knew, so that was a big favor for which I’ve never adequately thanked Paul. I’ve played mostly with Raul’s and Luigi’s band, in its various incarnations, ever since. I’ve got large portions of the charts memorized by now, so even though I don’t read music very well I can pick it up whenever the band picks up again. Which it just did. The latest version started firing up for some gigs this fall at some local dives. (Paul calls it the Cuchifritos Circuit.) This time I recruited my friend Breck, a better bass player but not a native salsa guy, to split it with me so I can skip half the gigs and avoid being out at night too much. That’s been a lot of fun. And Luigi asked me to make some flyers, for which I came up with this funny thing. There’s something about salsa music — I mean the straight stuff, the grittiest, sweatiest, lowest-brow variety — that feels as solid as food to me. If you don’t count my daughters and wife, followed I guess by my books and computers, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that makes me happier.
Categorised as: Music