THERE’S a popular song by salsa orchestra El Gran Combo about a man who asks that the love and praise he’s earned in life be given to him while he is still around to appreciate it.
“If you think I deserve it,” the song goes, “why not give it to me now? Don’t wait ’til I die to go to the sacred space and then say that I was a good man.”
It’s a song that celebrates the idea that love and tributes mustn’t happen posthumously. What’s the point, really, if the subject is not there to experience it?
And so it was for nearly fifty Puerto Rican salsa musicians who gathered in a Midtown recording studio for a historic photograph.
“The greats are falling like dry leaves,” observed 74-year-old balladeer Jimmy Sabater. “Some of them here today, may not be around next year. This gathering is poetry, beautiful poetry.”
Inspired by the classic Art Kane photograph, “A Great Day in Harlem,” which captured portraits of jazz legends on a Harlem stoop in 1958, our “A Great Day in Salsa” photo sought to commemorate the iconic musicians who play this unique Puerto Rican genre — salsa dura.
While Boricuas from here and the island created the sound, there have been major contributions by Cubans, Dominicans (flautist Johnny Pacheco and singer Jose Alberto “El Canario” and non-Latinos (like pianist Larry Harlow). All were present.
The artists traveled from all parts of the country: Crooners Cheo Feliciano and Ismael Miranda flew in from Puerto Rico, Tito Nieves from Orlando and pianist Oscar Hernandez from California.
It was like an extended family reunion — with grown men hugging, kissing, laughing, sharing stories and, from time to time, falling into improvised jams.
They seemed in awe of each other, too.
“It’s pretty humbling to be in the presence of legends I grew up listening to,” said 32-year-old Frankie Negrón.
At one point, 74-year-old maestro Pacheco, who was an integral part of the genre’s glory years in the ’60s and ’70s, embraced Negrón. The grip seemed like a passing of the torch.
Salsa’s infectious rhythms are not the soundtrack for today’s youth, yet one thing was certain — reports of its death have been greatly exaggerated.
Trombonist Papo Vazquez summed up its future: “No matter how much the music evolves, no corporation or money can destroy the spirit and magic that is salsa.”