Que hablen los habladores…

Arriving just after 11pm, the Tropical —which is having shows all week long to celebrate its 51st anniversary— is like a giant mango tree in full bloom. The first band plays its last song, and after a few recorded reguetones, Maza, Tirso and the band are on stage, all dressed in white.

The first song Que hablen los habladores has the crowd singing along with hands in the air, a few sound problems are quickly resolved. Maza doesn’t quite garner clapping, but by far gets the most response of any entertainer at the Tropical.

With the sound problems worked out, Tirso’s up to bat with the Alina Torres song he made famous with his CH arrangement, Cantinero, which, amazing sounds exactly like the Charanga Habanera’s version of the song. Something that suits me just fine, causing my mouth to fall wide open at the improvement and potential of Maza’s teenaged band. The newfound crisp tightness of the band highlights the percussion section, beefed out, as it should be, with kit drummer, timbale, tumbadoras and güiro.

As much as I can make out it is Maza’s players tonight, although at least the female coroist is from Tirso’s band. And yes, all the band members —minus Tirso and Maza— appear to be under 20 with one exception.

True to form with Michel Maza, the stage becomes a control center for a big party, open to all 5,000 or so at tonight's show. The Cuban demeanor is one where theoretically everyone is equal, stars are gracious and approachable and don’t get mobbed in the street. After a show it is typical to see the trumpet players fighting with everyone else to get onto the camello to go home, or to take a bus with the one the telenovela actors etc. Therefore, an open stage doesn’t usually cause any problems.

The third song is back to Michel Maza with the song, Soy un juguete bien caro (I think) with an extended coro of the well-known children’s nursery rhyme about a black and white cat in love. Maza’s voice is as always, flawless and awe inspiring, Camínalo…

Back stage is a good vantage point to take in Michel Maza, conducting the band like a frenzied shadow boxer. Maza is much more focused on the band and the music tonight then on the party, compared to the last time I saw him at the tropical. In fact, everything about this show is tighter and more serious.

I have never bought the argument that Michel’s talent has been buried under his reparterismo (ghettoism-rough translation). I think those types of criticisms are generally out of context and hard to substantiate by anyone who has witnessed the hard worker that Maza is, guest singing two or three times a week with almost every band in Havana.

I’ve said it before but I’ll repeat it here. Seeing the Michael Angelo of Cuban dance music —Los Van Van— in the Sistine Chapel of Cuba —the Tropical— with four singers, at least two of which are in the upper echelon of salseros, moving some 8,000 to blissful dancing and pure joy, after playing an hour or so of new and old Van Van classics, to then witness Maza, come on stage in the midst of all this and completely move the crowd, immediately making them his own, is indicative of at least two facts: one, Maza owns the Tropical, whatever the crowd may be; and two, Maza’s talent has never been buried under anything.

The sheer number of gigs Maza does, most at matinee and venues for Cuban crowds, makes him one of the most exposed of all the singers, and maybe a lot of this is due to his timba repartero religion. Far from burying his talent, in some ways it is bringing it to more Cubans, albeit generally in lower level bands. Of course this is not the case for a foreign public that relies on his albums. Despite the fact that the whole Tropical knows all his songs by heart, Maza only started to release albums in the last year, the latest Que hablen los habladores…

Nonetheless, tonight’s band of young kids is on fire; Maza isn’t the only one focused tonight.

Tirso is next up with a timba remake of a reguetón song that's all timba and all Tirso; a testament to the song-writing abilities of Don Omar. And no, Maza and Tirso don’t play reguetón or hip hop at all.

The band appeared convinced and motivated. Maza and Tirso were not the only ones trading of spots; the stage was a whirlwind of movement as the musicians tag-teemed with their socios backstage. As the songs changed, so would the trumpet and sax players, the former players temporarily going to the corner of the ring where their girlfriends, towels and water bottles in hand, would get them ready for the next round.

The lineup is three trumpet, two sax, kit drum, tumbadoras, timbale, güiro, bass, keyboards, two male and one female backup singers.

The güro player also switched on and off, and both were good. Beyond noticing it, I was too far removed to relate whether they were switching off as Maza and Tirso switch leads or not, that is, like a combination of the two bands. And they weren’t the only ones switching off. One of the other great things about a Maza show at the Tropical is that he always gives young up and comers a chance to dish out coros or whole songs.

Next were two young singers who got their chance to move the Tropical and did a pretty nice job. Maza then came back on stage with a new songs he shares with Tirso. Throughout the night, all the songs are long drawn out jams, with some story telling interludes in the guia part, followed by ecstatic coros with Maza always signaling the climax of each song —which comes several times— and the beginning of a new subasta de cintura (waist auction) with “Fieeeeeeeestaaaa…..” que rico es vivir.

These guys are out of hand; this is the future of timba callejera and it is nothing pretty and certainly nothing lite. The next song, Tirso’s latest single, Timba Cubana sounds great live, with tons of new coros, great breaks, trumpet explosions; every section as guapo as the coros. “Déjate vivir, dale alegría a tu alma, te voy a matar con una bala, (qué bala de qué) SALVA! Conmigo no, con Van Van. Conmigo no, con Van Van, Pupi!”

Tirso bragging that he has the authorization to speak about timba cubana, no doubt! Then taking a lesson from Maza (not that he ever needed much help in this area remember Tirso’s …si quieres guerra, hay guerra!).

“Hay gente que se cojen pa’ eso, hay gente que lo saben todo. Y qué cosa, con nosotros no hay casualidad, y eso lo sabe la Habana, somos la timba, pero somos la calle también, entonces…Ten cuidado! No te equivoques! Y respeta! K! No te sofoques! Qué bala, de qué?! Qué Billy, de qué?! Eh?! Y como nosotros, en Cuba no hay tres. Oye muchacho, cuidado! Te digo que cuidado, no viene a abusar, conmigo no, con los Van Van.

Entonces, Déjate vivir, dale alegría a tu alma, te voy a matar con una bala (tu sabes como es), SALVA! [Tirso]”

[Maza led coros] “Déjate vivir, dale alegría a tu alma, te voy a matar con una bala, (como dice Tropical) SALVA!

The added coros certainly help the interpretation of the “Conmigo no, con Van Van” coro included on the recorded version. Battle lyrics are great to hear, one of the best elements of Jamaican DJ music and a great source of inspiration during the apex of timba.