Up close and personal with... Eliades Ochoa
Francois Baillargeon info@tosalsa.com
Posted September, 2002

Last April 2001, we had the opportunity to speak with Cuban singer and guitarist, Eliades Ochoa. In spite of his apparently recent fame as a member of the Buena Vista Social Club, Eliades Ochoa is, in fact, one of the major upholders of traditional Cuban son music, a role he takes seriously. Waiting in the hotel lobby, my companions and I caught a glimpse of a black cowboy hat moving across the room. Was this him? Unmistakably. We settled in over coffee and began to try to peel away the layers in order to discover the man behind the music. But there were no layers. A true guajiro, or rural person, he exuded the simple self-assurance that comes with knowing exactly who you are, and what you have to do. This was the real thing, like straight rum, from Cuba, with love.
 




Do you feel connected to the current explosion in popularity of Latin American culture around the world?


Yes, something like that. I feel like one of the most faithful and dedicated representatives of the traditional music of Cuba, the son, which is the "main course" of our music. There has always been a strong musical movement in Latin America and in Cuba, where the music is much like the music of the rest of the Caribbean.

I think that the although the traditional music of Cuba had been ignored for many years and had virtually fallen out of favour, it is now going through one of its most glorious periods. Now we feel extremely proud because we know that as soon as an Eliades Ochoa and El Cuarteto Patria concert is announced, we completely sell out - even if it's freezing outside! We feel proud to be playing the traditional music of Cuba, [which is also known as] la Vieja Trova.


What do you think of the modern sounds coming out of Cuba, for example, of Los Van Van, and others. Does this affect your music?

It doesn't affect my music, but it's possible that their music is influenced by ours. Of course you know that the son, the bolero and all the music that comes from the roots comes from Santiago de Cuba, in the east, in Oriente Province. And all of this other music comes from the son, including music grouped under the term "salsa."

What do you think of salsa?

I never criticize salseros. I am incapable of it. It would take an ignoramus to criticize the salseros. Call it a rhythm, a modernization, or a commercial form of music... call it what you like, but I am great friends with many salseros, like to listen to salsa and take an interest in how they play it. I enjoy listening to the Gran Combo Puerto Rico, to Ruben Blades, who is my close personal friend, and to Isaac Delgado, also from Cuba.

I like to listen salsa - not to all salseros and salsa, naturally - but I love listening to the things they do. I recognize that they produce intelligent music and that they are tremendous musicians and artists. They happen to be playing salsa, but because of their professionalism and deep understanding of music, they could be playing anything they wanted.

Do you think that son will evolve?

No, not really, but son will be mixed with other things. Now they sing it rap style! But that will only strengthen its popularity in the same way that Cuban music is currently enjoying a boom. People are always inventing all kinds of things and different kinds of music, but son is son.

So son is like a fountain of inspiration?

That's a very good term. Yes, it's something like that. People are always coming up with all kinds of special versions.

Does that bother you?

No, not at all. I know what I have to do when I get up on stage. We must respect what others do. In that way, we all lead a good life, without problems.

Before becoming famous outside of Cuba, you were already very famous in your own right. Do you find it ironic that you are now well known in the U.S.?

No, chico, not at all. I think it's only natural that I go to the U.S. and that music halls fill up. It's normal because of the happiness - the feeling and the harmony that music brings. It has nothing to do with anything else. The harmony of music is joy, and joy is something that we all desire. I really feel very content in the U.S. When I travel around the U.S., nobody ever bothers me, or asks me questions they shouldn't be asking. Wherever I go in the world, I stop and play traditional Cuban music .

I don't want to dwell on the subject of politics, but El Cuarteto Patria had its roots in politics when it was formed in 1939 by Emilia García. Do politics still play a part in what you do?

No, I would never get involved with politics, not now, not ever. I have nothing to with politics. As for before, I don't know how Emilia García operated. I only know that the group was involved in some clandestine revolutionary activity. This is something that Grisel Sande, mi compañera, my wife, explains more fully in her upcoming book about the Cuarteto Patria. Although she gave me permission to talk about this, I don't want to go into too much detail since this is something she explores, as well as the story of Eliades Ochoa and the history of the group.

I think that after the time of Emilia García, or Patria Emilia, the group lost any sort of link to politics. Perhaps the group kept the name as a kind of tribute to the name Emilia García used, but I believe it stopped there. I can't tell you much more for certain, because, well, just imagine, when the Cuarteto Patria was founded in 1939, I wasn't born for another 7 years! I was born in 1946, so when the Revolution occurred in Cuba in 1959, I was only 13, just a kid, really. I didn't know much about what was going on at that time. I'm not a historian, I'm a musician and that's what I am.

Do you think that the Revolution was good for Cuban music, and that because of the island's situation of being rather closed that the music developed into a more concentrated, or purer form, with less outside influence?

I think that the Cuban Ministry of Culture (EGREM) accomplished a very important thing because it grouped together all the artists, musicians and people from similar occupations. And together, all these people had a dream, as well as a feeling of accomplishing something important, in knowing that they had a union just for them. They could stop playing only in the streets, and in bars and cafes.

And now the feeling is even greater. We all work and pay taxes to the State, just like anyone else in the world, and we play where we like. I'm signed with Virgin Records in Madrid, a multinational company, but I pay taxes to the Cuban government and I work with whomever I like, whether it's in the U.S., in Spain or wherever. We're in a good position. We pay our taxes to the Ministry of Culture and we can play… and they don't get involved with what we do. There's incredible freedom with respect to music and culture, in general. We don't want any problems.

When you play or write music, are you conscious of the musical roots and historical influences in your music. e.g. do you feel parts of old Spanish folkloric music coming through? Do you feel the African influence?

I've never studied music, and I've never been to music school. I'm no historian or musicologist. I know the music of the street - I'm a graduate of the University of the Street! But of course they're right when they say there's a fusion between Spanish and African music - you can feel it. When I hear Spanish music I hear things that speak to me that are very son-like, very guaracho, very bolero.

When you listen to Cuban music, for example to a small passage or melody on the guitar or tres, sometimes things come to mind that are very Spanish, just as when I play a bolero, son or afro, you can hear the African in it with tremendous clarity, especially in certain sung passages. There is a form of singing that is completely African. There was a very strong immigration between these countries.

Have you played with Spaniards or Africans?

I've worked with a number of people from Africa, including Manu Dibango. I recorded an album with him called "Cuba-Africa", which is a very good album. In Spain, I recorded albums with Peret, Jarabe de Palos, Moncho and with many others.

Life has given me the opportunity to find so much joy in collaborating with others and through being with people from other places. I would love to keep doing this because it is a way of spreading culture, of opening doors that lead to other paths… when we play with artists from other countries and when they play with us. This is a way of forming a large brotherhood, or family. Here's to the extended family! - "a la familia grande!", as I always say in my concerts.

You obviously feel great emotion when you play with people from other countries.
Yes I do, such as when I played with Charlie Musselwhite, the incredible American blues harmonica player. Also with Ry Cooder and the people from the Buena Vista Social Club, and with David Hidalgo and Cesar Chavez of Los Lobos, with Raul Malo, the singer, and so on. I've collaborated a great deal.

Has fame changed you?

Not one bit. I live the way I always have. We still play at the Casa de la Trova in Santiago de Cuba. We're always there, playing on the steps outside in the street. I sit down, people come around and we knock back a few drinks together right there in the street. In front of my country house in Santa Maria, there's a huge rock I sit on. Cars go by and honk or stop and say hello. I raise my glass, have a drink and wave to them.

Something immensely huge in my life that gives me incredible satisfaction and which I will never be able to pay back except by returning love, is the winning of the love of the children of Cuba through my recording of the song "Píntate Los Labios Maria" [see his album, Sublime Ilusión]. This song has won me the love and the tenderness of all the children of Cuba. Few are those who don't know me. I walk through the streets and they stop me. I walk beside a school and when they spot me, they all come running to the side of the fence, clapping and singing the song to me. That brings me such tremendous joy. You really can't imagine how proud I am that the children know me and love me the way they do. This is the biggest thing that could have ever happened to me.

Do you feel that this is your greatest musical achievement?

This is the thing that fill me with incredible pride and makes me feel so big inside - knowing that the children have this love for me. But another thing that make me feel strong and responsible, and that causes me to approach my work even more seriously and with much love - and even more so since music is my life - is knowing that wherever I make Cuban music, you can see a piece of Cuba - you can see the flag of the traditional music of Cuba. That also makes me feel proud, knowing that through me, my musical roots are able to reach people from other lands. This is music that had been ignored for so long. It was almost as if people had forgotten that the wonderful harmonies and melodies of traditional Cuban music had even existed.

Do you play any other instruments?

Of course. I play a little tres, and of course the maracas and the clave - but it's normal for everyone to play these last two. People In Cuba are very musical...those who don't sing boleros, can improvise a "decima" (a form of Cuban sung poetry). And those who don't sing, play some kind of instrument.

When did you start playing? Did you ever do any other sort of work?

When I was a child, I used to help my father in the fields. My father didn't have a lot of land, but he had a farm. He died just one month short of his 92nd birthday. He was a very strong man and worked very hard - from sunup to sundown. My father, Aristonico Ochoa, played the tres very well, and my mother, Jacobina Bustamante, also played the tres well. My brothers also play and sing and sometimes we would all get together and have a little family orchestra. We would have a few drinks, cook and do the housework. We sometimes spent the day like that.

But from a very early age, I was always at my father's side in the fields, helping him and learning how to plant corn, beans and grains; how to plant bananas, malanga, yucca, yams and even coffee-and taking advantage of the rainy season and planting in the rain. All this I experienced as a very young child, always at my father's side.

You are the true guajiro (peasant, rural person) that you sing about, the real thing!

I am extremely proud of being a guajiro. And if one day, I had to stop playing music for some reason such as sickness-god forbid, for without music, what's the use of life? - I would choose to live in the country... just to be able to see it. Although I could not work the land anymore, I would just want to see it, to smell the earth when it rains, and to hear the birds when I awake at five in the morning. And the sound of the owl in the night - these are the things that I treasure.

Is there a particular musician with whom you would like to collaborate?

No, my door is always open. I would welcome a collaboration with many others from any part of the world, whether American, African, Latin, Asian - from any country, with any kind of musician, to collaborate, play together, study and learn.

Does collaborating with such diverse musicians push you to change the way you make music?

No, when you have music in your blood, you can do anything. He who drives a small car, needs only to practice a little, in order to drive a bus. He already has a sense of how to steer.

I don't want to dwell on the Buena Vista Social Club - everybody seems to be asking you about this-- but do you think that you would be as famous as you are now and doing what you are now doing without that experience?

Look, traditional Cuban music, the Cuban son, is already known in every corner of the world, and I, Eliades Ochoa, am not interested in being famous. I'm only interested in making traditional Cuban music in whatever part of the world I happen to be in. And to do it with love, which the public deserves and expects, in every concert.


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