Salsa's Spaceman

Far-out and outspoken, they call Eddie Palmieri the madman of Latin music

by Nate Chinen

		A Side of Salsa: Latin music legend Eddie Palmieri

Eddie Palmieri, the 62-year-old legend of Latin music, speaks in a manner that is both casual and intense—word flows into word, phrase into phrase, in patterns almost as rhythmic as the music he's discussing.

Palmieri is spending a week at home in New York, regaining his peace of mind after a grueling month on the road with his septet. "We just finished a recording which really drained us," he explains over the phone. "[When] we finished recording, we took off for a tour of 21 concerts in 10 countries in 27 days." Rather than sounding exhausted, Palmieri actually seems to gain momentum when asked about the experience. "It's an incredible recording. [There were] a lot of complications, but it's an exciting, danceable CD, and it's the first album that I've done with vocals in 11 years."

If history is any indication, the new album will emerge as one of the year's strongest Afro-Caribbean releases. Palmieri boasts a serious track record. He began playing piano and timbales at age eight, and quickly found work among the salsa orchestras in New York City.

"[Those were] the most incredible rhythmical dance patterns the world has ever heard, from the bolero to the mambo, [to the] cha-cha—that was the '50s, the era with Machito, Tito Puente, Tito Rodriguez, my brother Charlie Palmieri, and then I came along in '61."

1961 was the year Palmieri formed La Perfecta, a now-legendary unit that played the Palladium ballroom four nights a week for five years. He received the first-ever Grammy award for Best Latin Album in 1975, for The Sun of Latin Music (Coco). He won the award again the following year, and three more times with the Eddie Palmieri Orchestra, in 1984, '85 and '87.

		"Now [NARAS] want to establish a Latin American Recording Arts and Sciences to give better exposure and presentation to Hispanic and Latina artists. But I still can't be budged — that's a form of apartheid."

In more recent years, Palmieri has been both an advocate and spokesman for Latin jazz. In 1993, he was appointed to the board of governors of the New York chapter of the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences (NARAS). While in office, he worked tirelessly to establish the long-overdue category of Latin jazz. At the time, he also led one of the genre's most compelling ensembles—an octet featuring the horn "trilogy" of trumpeter Brian Lynch, alto saxophonist Donald Harrison and trombonist Conrad Herwig. The group's debut album, Palmas (Elektra/Nonesuch), was among the nominees for the first Grammy award in the newly-created Latin jazz category in 1995.

Although he's no longer with NARAS, Palmieri has strong opinions about the organization. "I believe they're glad they got rid of me," he says matter-of-factly. "I gave them a lot of complications … it took 17 years to put our music into a category. And now [NARAS] wants to establish LARAS, a Latin American Recording Arts and Sciences, to give better exposure and presentation to Hispanic and Latina artists. But I still can't be budged—that's a form of apartheid, and it's quite an ugly situation as far as I'm concerned. We should all be in NARAS. Otherwise, why don't we remove the classical music, and call it 'CLARAS'?"

Palmieri is also outspoken about the state of contemporary Latin music. He calls modern salsa a "disaster": "Rhythmically, they have subdued the drums and altered the engineering of the structure. [They have] removed all forms of excitement and climax." He credits this unfortunate development as primary motivation for his entry into Latin jazz.

On a more positive note, Palmieri speaks enthusiastically about the heightened global awareness of Latin music and culture.

"The music started as 'Afro-Cuban.' It became 'Afro-Caribbean' because the Puerto Rican was the one who captured it and could comprehend it and was able to preserve it for the Cubans for 35 years when they were behind closed curtains. Now it's 'Afro-World'—you have salsa orchestras from Finland to Japan. Truly unbelievable … I mean, salsa has gone berserk in Europe."

Listening to Palmieri's most recent albums, one gets an impression not only of solid tradition, but also of creative innovation. Critics declared Palmas one of the most successful Latin Jazz hybrid albums in recent memory, and the same could easily be said for Palmieri's follow-up albums, Arete and Vortex (both RMM Records). Unlike so many Latin jazz ensembles, which clearly sacrifice elements of both genres in search of a marketable compromise, Palmieri and his group seem to profile the respective strengths of the two styles. He explains his process very simply: "The plain desires of the jazz musician are certainly fulfilled in my form of writing, or composition. Then, the rhythm section gets priority when I turn it into structures of dance."

He's also quick to point out that the group is simply living up to its characterization as a Latin jazz combo.

"The majority of what people call Latin jazz is not Latin jazz, it's 'Jazz Latin,'" he says. "Because there's no rhythm section there. There's a drummer, and maybe an American bass player. Where's your rhythm section? There is no orchestra playing Latin jazz, in my opinion, except for the ones that have a full rhythm section. Which means: timbale, bongo, and conga."

Any veteran of an Eddie Palmieri performance will attest to the pianist's sheer energy. He bends over the keys with ferocious intensity, growling and grimacing over a sharp, percussive montuno. It isn't difficult to imagine how he earned several of his more memorable epithets; the pianist is known not only as "The Latin Sun King," but also the "Madman of Latin Music," and, earlier in his career, as "Salsa's Spaceman" (for his far-out, extended solos) and "Pancho Rompeteclas" (which, loosely translated, means "Jack the keyboards-buster").

The energy carries over into his conception as a bandleader. "They call my orchestra a replica of [Art Blakey's] Jazz Messengers," he says with pride, "because everyone who is anyone … has come through this orchestra."

In addition to Harrison, Herwig and Lynch (each of whom has moved on to solo careers), Palmieri's former disciples include the likes of Jerry Gonzalez, Charlie Sepulveda and David Sanchez. " They have all played here, and they all will play here, and their offspring, as long as I'm alive," he says, "because the Orchestra will call them." At the same time, Palmieri credits his success as a leader to the fact that he "never lost the essence of being a sideman."

In fact, Palmieri is preparing for a tour of Europe with vibraphonist Dave Samuels, in support of the vibist's recent Cal Tjader tribute, Tjader-ized (Verve). It will be Palmieri's first tour as a sideman. Upon his return in June, he'll return to Puerto Rico, as honored guest at the Heineken Jazz Festival.

Palmieri describes his current septet with a string of superlatives. "Now we have Mr. Tony Lujan, from New Mexico, on trumpet, and Mr. Phil Vieux, who came to us directly from Horace Silver—he's of Haitian origin, and he is a phenom. At 25 or 26 years old, he is the greatest reed player I believe I've ever heard." His rhythm section is no less distinguished, consisting of seasoned veterans: bassist Joe Santiago ("one of the greatest bass players we have"), and percussionists Marc Quinones, Bobby Allende, and Jose Claussell ("legends in themselves").

Although Palmieri's appearance is a part of the Painted Bride's Onda Latina series, the show will be held at the Trocadero—where people will be free to dance. "It's going to be a tremendous presentation," Palmieri says happily. "Whoever doesn't feel like dancing ought to have his head examined."

Eddie Palmieri, Sat., May 16, 9 p.m., the Trocadero, 10th & Arch Sts., 922-LIVE.