Los Jubilados Del Caribe

I take the short walk up into Santiago de Cuba’s cultural quarter to a plaza outside the Bacardi Museum. My senses pull me towards the intoxicating sounds of the plaza’s resident band, Los Jubilados del Caribe.

This is the the four-man ensemble that Rudy Daquín plays in Monday-Saturday. The band’s name translates as ‘The Pensioners of the Caribbean’, alluding of course to the internationally-renowned film series ‘The Pirates of the Caribbean’.

This merry gang of musicians has brought joy to the streets of Santiago de Cuba since 2002, making this prime spot their own.

They keep their eyes on the stars above them, navigating their way through Cuba’s rich musical repertoire, and constantly top up their treasure trove of popular songs from around the world. This allows them to satisfy any traveller, or local, who should pass by.

After seeing Rudy playing guitar at the Casa de las Tradiciones, I’m curious to see how his playing style and role differ in this street setting. But as I approach the band, the first thing I notice is that Rudy is not playing guitar. He’s got a set of bongos and maracas, and one of his bandmates is playing guitar. He rises to greet me and introduces me to his bandmates: Laudelino, Roberto & Credeto.

Credeto is playing an instrument that looks very similar to a guitar. At first I think it’s a tres, the Afro-Cuban adaptation to the Spanish-guitar, which has 3 pairs of strings. But on closer look, this one has 4 pairs. Rudy tells me it’s a cuatro and it does pretty much the same job as the tres.

I wonder how it will interact with the guitar?

As the social context of the son evolved, the structure of the son band and the role of the guitarist evolved with it. Advances in microphones and amplification made it easier to balance instrument levels and play to larger crowds.

The solo [tooltip position=”top” text=”A poet with a guitar”]trovador[/tooltip]’s focus is on nuanced, individual expression.

A mix of fingerpicking & strumming helps to drive & colour the lyrics.

Solo trovador guitarists juggle rhythmic, bass, melodic and harmonic elements.

Trovadors like Trio Matamoros combined these skills.

Comprising 3 singers, with either 3 guitars, or 2 guitars and maracas.¹

Guitarists split rhythmic, melodic & harmonic duties, and picking & strumming, between them.

Sextets emerged in the 1920s, the first being the Sexteto Habanero.

Comprising double bass, guitar, tres, bongos, maracas & [tooltip position=”top” text=”A percussion instrument which creates the pattern used as a tool for rhythmic organisation in Afro-Cuban music.”]clave[/tooltip].¹

The guitarist plays a more rhythmic role, strumming whilst the tres picks out cyclical melodies.

With their unique set-up, Los Jubilados del Caribe moonlight as a sextet but circumnavigate the usual line-up. They’ve hijacked a contraband cuatro to replace the tres, Rudy juggles and beatboxes percussion, and the clave is nowhere to be seen.

As I watch this tightly-knit son band, I find the interplay and camaraderie between them just as entertaining as the music itself. Their bubbly personalities rise to the surface. You can’t help but be spirited away onto the high seas by this bunch of swashbuckling soneros.

But how does this crew operate? What are the vital ingredients of the son genre?

I’ve been digging and have found some treasure, so let’s strap on our eye-patch and take a look through our spyglass…

Rudy mans the rudder and keeps his mates on course by setting the rhythm and tempo with endless inventiveness and a tireless engine. He has raided as many instruments as he can possibly carry. This multitasker can play a martillo pattern on the bongos at the same time as shaking maracas and imitating the bongo bell.

The strong and fearless double bassist, Roberto, works the ropes playing tumbao patterns. He digs deep, dropping an anchor when the seas are rough and looks after the bottom end so they never run aground. He’ll soldier on through limb and back pain without complaint.

Level-headed Laudelino looks after his loot and is always on hand to shore up the deck. He’s forever spinning yarns, entertaining the crew with off-the-cuff quips. He’s got the firepower to go off freebooting, but even sixty pieces of soloing silver won’t tempt him away from his steady, [tooltip position=”top” text=”Chords that change earlier than expected, relative to standard western music.”]anticipated chord[/tooltip] stroking duties. And no matter how off-beat the chord changes are, he’ll never get seasick.

Cool but cunning Credeto on cuatro attacks with all 4 pairs of strings, wisely picking his point to strike. He’s the smiling assassin who ransacks guajeo riffs with wreckless abandon.

Normally X would mark the spot, constantly reminding the crew of the correct rhythmic places to strike, but Captain Clave is conspicuous in his absence in their line-up. He has been forced to walk the plank following a mutiny. So we’re left with a bunch of renegade pirates who play whatever they like, however they like, for as long as they like. Listen to how rhythmically he walks that plank…

With it’s unmistakeable and infectious signature riff, there’s only one other song that can compete with this as Cuba’s most recognisable – ‘Guatanamera’.

‘Chan Chan’ shares its name with the ancient Peruvian city, which was the largest in pre-Columbian South America.

The song is apparently about a couple, ‘Juanica and Chan Chan’, who go down to the beach to fetch sand to build themselves a house. The song was written in 1987 by Compay Segundo, who says the following about it’s origins:

I didn’t compose Chan Chan, I dreamt it. One day I woke up hearing those four sensitive notes… I gave them a lyric inspired by a children’s tale from my childhood, Juanica y Chan Chan.

The song was reinterpreted in 1997, becoming the key track on the groundbreaking album, Buena Vista Social Club. The album took the world by storm winning a Grammy in 1998.

Los Jubilados del Caribe are now going to sail us out of the safety of Santiago Bay, onto the high seas of the Caribbean, treating us to their unique version of ‘Chan Chan’ along the way.

The cuatrista kicks off by setting up the melodic hook, which he repeats and develops throughout.

After his final solo, he gives Rudy the nod to signal the transition into the montuno section (the final section of a son song). The montuno section is clearer in this group setting. Rudy adds an energising layer to the call-and-response. He whips out maracas with his right hand, whilst playing bongos with his left, and imitating the bongo bell.

Vocal harmonies build tension and picardy third (major chord) on the final chord gives it a nice, surprise finish.

Watch their reaction at the end when I point it out and complement them on it.

Wolf-whistling passing chicas through cheeky grins, these gentlemen of fortune make the most of their ‘retirement’. But this Jack-the-Lad behaviour belies another, more chivalrous side to Rudy Daquín. As I saw at Casa de las Tradiciones, he’s no stranger to romantic songs and seems to be adept at turning on the charm.

Today he has swapped his Brazil cap for an Italy cap (he also likes to sing in Italian). In this video on Youtube, from a few years ago, we see him serenading an Italian lady – in Italian. It looks as though she’s not all that familiar with the song, but you can see that it moves her all the same.

Then out comes a song for me: a whistletastic version of Yellow Submarine. Another naughty but nautical offering from the lovely Jubliados. Rudy says he’s a big Beatles fan and when I tell him I’m from Liverpool, his head nearly explodes.

So, we arrive back at the port and my voyage is over. I grease their collection pot with some pieces of silver and grab a copy of their album. It includes: a whistletastic solo album of international classics by Rudy and, a DVD of the band’s appearances in international music videos and Cuban music documentaries. They kindly sign the CD cover for me and Rudy writes a personal message:

‘Para nuestro amigo, Kieran, con el calor Santiaguero’

(‘For our friend, Kieran, with the Santiago heat’)

Rudy and I arrange our first lesson for the day after tomorrow.

And with my pockets bulging with Cuban musical booty, I leave thoroughly entertained, wondering what this musical genius will have up his sleeve…

¹The Salsa Guidebook for Piano & Ensemble | Rebecca Mauleon

Icons from The Noun Project (Double Bass by Angela Gasparetti, Cuatro by Björn Andersson, Guitar by Halfazebra Studio, Bongos by Pham Thi Dieu Linh, Maracas by Renaud Mignerey, Claves by Artem Kovyazin), Cowbell by Keri Tan, People (Stick Men) by Arthur Shlain.