Female Trombonists - Rita Payés

This is my second post regarding female trombonists. I have talked about Melba Liston, the trailblazing artist that paved the way for so many female jazz musicians. Now I turn to another, much younger, trailblazer.

Rita Payés is the type of artist that causes jaws to hit the floor. She was born into a musical family, in Catalan, Spain - her mother, Elisabeth Roma, is an outstanding classical and jazz guitarist, steeped in Latin music (bossa nova, fado, boleros and more). Rita started out on piano but for some reason, she decided to try the trombone. Some people have a natural affinity for a specific instrument, and I suspect that this young woman instinctively knew how to play this horn. Of course, she must have put in many hours of practice, but her facility and tone sound like they come from a deep place, beyond intellect and scale exercises. 

Oh, and Rita sings. And plays guitar. Her cup of talent runneth over. Her vocals are sweet and wistful. The combination of her voice, her mother's guitar and quiet accompaniment from other compassionate musicians creates an almost magical experience. Here's an example of Rita's artistry.  Her voice is delicate and sensitive, but not weak. She covers the entire range of the trombone and the musical ideas that she sends through the horn are full of yearning.  

Rita is 22 years old. She released her first record when she was 16.  She plays around Europe, mostly in Spain and France. I don't think she has toured North America, which is a huge loss for lovers of great music that live on this continent.  I have never visited Spain, but now I must.  I need to hear Rita play and sing. 

Reggie Watts

I was ranting recently about the things that make me anxious; now I am going to talk about joy. Reggie Watts makes me feel joyful.

Just look at this guy! He has the wild hair going on, the multi-culti vibe, a hint of a smirk. When I look at him, I can't help but smile. He makes me glad to be part of the human race.

But his fun appearance is not the story. This fella is a towering talent. I first picked up on his mad musical skills when I ran into a Seattle band called "Maktub." (Digression: "Maktub" means "It is written" in Arabic). I heard Maktub's second album, "Kronos," in 2003 I think. I instantly became a fan, largely due to Reggie's awesome voice and improvisational abilities. He started doing stuff that didn't involve his Maktub bandmates, specifically solo excursions using a stereo digital multitack "loop" recorder. He decided to be his own band, using his voice to lay down percussion and "instrumental" tracks, then singing on top of those tracks. Check out one of his improvisations by clicking HERE. He also got into comedy and ultimately caught the attention of Conan O'Brien. Check out this piece that Reggie did for the Conan folks a while back.

So Reggie may be Bobby McFerrin's successor in the world of crazy vocalization. He may just be a very talented silly guy. I sure am glad to know about him.

Another Living Musician I Love - Susana Baca

Susana Baca is an Afro-Peruvian vocalist, probably one of Peru's best-known musicians. Like Bonnie Raitt, she has the ability to convey a wide range of emotions with her voice - it is a plaintive, keening instrument. She has recorded four CD's in the past ten years. To my ear, Susana is singing the Peruvian version of the blues - the landos, sambas and alcatraz song forms have that lamenting sound that I have always associated with the blues. This is great stuff, and Susana presents it with wonderful precision - almost like chamber music in a way.

Here is Susana's own description of her life, snipped from the her record label's web site:

“I was born in Lima and grew up in a small town in Peru called Chorrillos. My father was a chauffeur for a wealthy family and my mother worked as a cook and sometimes washed clothes. In Lima we lived in an alleyway, the kind where the servants lived, off the main streets past the fancy neighborhoods. My father played the guitar. He was the official musician of the alley. Whenever there was a party they called him. He played serranitas which are tales of the Golondrinos, people who came from Los Andes near the coast in the time of cotton-picking. My father learned the serranitas from them in his childhood. They are sung at Christmas: (singing) Ay, my dove is flying away, she’s gone. Let her go, she’ll soon return.

“I have an older sister and brother, and the three of us would sing together. My mother taught us how to dance. She’d say, "How can my children not know how to dance?" And so we sang and danced every afternoon. Later, my mother bought a record player, which was a big event. I imitated everything. My sister enrolled in a singing contest on the radio, and we went to watch the broadcast. It left a very strong mark on me. I saw her there and felt as though that was where I wanted to be. My brother made me a stick with a can on the end, which was the microphone. People came and we put on a show. I would drop anything for music.

“I tried not to become a professional singer, mainly for my mother’s sake. She thought I wouldn’t be able to earn a living. That’s my mother’s image of musicians. My mother told me many stories about musicians who were not famous like Felipe Pingo, a renowned musician and composer who died of tuberculosis. She said, "This is the destiny of my daughter," and she pushed me to become a teacher. I liked studying to be a teacher; I dedicated myself to being a singer later. When I first met my husband, Ricardo, I was active as a musician, but everything moved so slowly. I dedicated myself to music, and couldn’t devote myself to looking for work or figuring out how to record an album. I thought that if I worked hard enough, I’d find someone who was interested in working with me. I realized, after many years, that no one was interested in what I was singing, which was poetry. I was black, singing black music. It was a big problem. In Peru the black population is very small—you find mixed people, like me, or even lighter. But as a culture it is present everywhere. And another thing: blacks also segregate themselves. By class or by skin tone. I’ve heard my aunts say, "Marry someone lighter, even an Indian, so that your children will have hair they can comb."

“I would like to be remembered for my voice, of course. But also for helping to spread the music of my ancestors—all those people who were never recognized for their work or for their beautiful culture.