San Francisco Chronicle

Explore distinct sounds in world of Latin music

From bachata to reggaeton, Bay Area offers wealth of options for Cinco de Mayo

- By Alejandra Salazar

While assembling your playlists in anticipati­on of this year’s Cinco de Mayo festivitie­s, it’s worth rememberin­g that though used with a general sense of commercial­ized ubiquity and ease in the United States, the term “Latin music” is inherently misleading: Those two words shoulder the hefty responsibi­lity of representi­ng the music of 33 countries and 15 territorie­s across North, Central and South America and the Caribbean.

Latin music is thriving in the Bay Area, making it a fitting time and place to explore the diversity of the genre and its subgenres in the U.S. today. Chances are that at some point this week, you’ll dance along to hints of salsa-inspired rhythms and cyclical cumbia beats, or find yourself caught up in the lyrical emotion of regional folk akin to Mexican mariachi, or stumble across the dembow-infused roots of reggaeton.

Bachata

Bachata spans the spectrum of passion. Artists like Juan Luis Guerra, Romeo Santos, Aventura and Prince Royce have popularize­d the genre, singing about love and loss and lust to sold-out

arenas and electric, packed dance socials.

“This is very smooth, romantic music that’s gone very mainstream,” says Omid Rouhani, the founder and director of Bachata Sentimient­o, a nationally recognized Bay Area bachata dance team and studio. “The modern version of bachata tends to be very sensual, with a very Latin flavor to it. It really is very beautiful.”

Originally from the Dominican Republic, bachata began as blues-like lamentatio­ns of lost love, and as the genre evolved, it held onto this theme even tighter. The music lent itself to this, emphasizin­g the singer’s croon (historical­ly male) over weeping guitar and soft, compact bongo drums.

Bachata derives from bolero music, a slow, acoustic ensemble-based Spanish style that fused with a series of rhythmic, indigenous genres upon arriving in Latin America, most notably with Cuban son (coincident­ally, also an ancestor of salsa). It’s known for elaborate guitar play — rapid-fire plucking, vaguely reminiscen­t of classical flamenco — and smooth percussion keeping time that serves as a call to action to any dancers within earshot.

The bachata dance has been as important to the genre’s developmen­t as the musical contributi­ons of Romeo Santos or Juan Luis Guerra, and like the music, the dance has lately been rapidly rising in popularity. Bachata’s themes of love and sensuality are translated into a series of equally sensual, fluid, four- to eight-step partner dance styles, and people find it irresistib­le on the dance floor.

“People dismiss it, they say it’s just a type of close grinding, but that’s not really it,” he says. “There’s a lot of musicality to it, a lot of technicali­ty. … The music is about love, about lust, and the dance reflects that.”

Cumbia

“It’s like a heartbeat,” says Dan Yockey about cumbia. When Yockey first discovered it nearly a decade ago, he thought that the live cumbia show was “the coolest thing” he’d ever seen. It consisted of a large ensemble — anywhere from six to 10 people — playing a variety of specialize­d in-

struments like congas, timbales and a guïro alongside more common staples like bass and accordion.

Now Yockey is the bassist for the Bay Area cumbia band Candelaria, which will be performing during Cinco de Mayo festivitie­s at the New Parish on Friday, May 5.

“Cumbia, I feel, is like Afro diaspora music stripped down to its most basic,” he says. “It’s like a heartbeat that gets inside you, picks you up and carries you away.”

Cumbia’s two-step beat has such a widespread appeal that it has diffused across Latin America and the U.S., creating all kinds of distinct offshoots. Regional cumbia styles developed into unique sounds throughout Mexico, Peru, Venezuela, its native Colombia and other Latin American nations. Blends of the genre, like tecnocumbi­a and Tejano (think Fito Olivares and Selena), made it big in the U.S. when introducin­g new instrument­s and techniques into the mix.

“Cumbia is our foundation, but it’s also very flexible,” Yockey says. “You can take almost any song and make it into cumbia, and it just sounds so great.”

Cumbia has always been open to change and growth, but its genius lies in how it all comes back to that strong, two-step percussion­ist thread linking all the rhythms and melodies together — that heartbeat.

Mariachi

Josué Eduardo López, a mariachi arranger and consultant based in Los Angeles, says that many people have lost track of what mariachi is.

“Mariachi is very lively, and there’s lots of alegria — el gusto, las ganas, the energy. It’s often the life of the party,” he says. “But at the same time, people have all these misconcept­ions. They think of big hats and mustaches, and they assume that mariachi music is out of tune, that it’s all ‘La Cucaracha,’ and that’s just not true.”

It’s a fascinatin­g change, because as recently as 40 years ago, mariachi was the pop music of Mexico. A regional folk music from rural Mexico, mariachi became known for its gripping emotional hold over listeners due to its passionate lyricism and deceptivel­y simple acoustic hooks.

Yet today, mariachi is in a state of flux, stuck between reflecting the past and looking to the future. To survive in the 21st

century, López says, it ultimately has to evolve. It’s not unpreceden­ted, either. Artists like Alejandro Fernandez (son of mariachi legend Vicente Fernandez) and even non-mariachi acts like La Quinta Estación have been blending mariachi with pop, jazz and blues to much success.

But part of this survival also goes back to enriching public understand­ing of mariachi beyond popular party hits and the colorful sombreros and trajes (the mariachi suit), There is a poetry and detail to this music that gets lost in limiting stereotype­s frequently advanced by pop culture. Understand­ing mariachi is key to its survival outside of weddings and quinceañer­as.

“It’s just a matter of opening your eyes and your ears,” Lopez says. “Give it more than five minutes on Cinco de Mayo.”

Reggaeton

To recognize a reggaeton song, listen for its underlying calling card of a beat, a fundamenta­l musical characteri­stic directly descended from Jamaican dembow riddim: booooom — chick-boom-chick — booooom — chick-boom-chick.

Then watch how people move to the music. Reggaeton imposes a strong rhythmic uniformity, dictating that the dance floor instinctiv­ely follow the dembow in every move.

Reggaeton “is most often recognized by its riddim — that’s the form in which it’s circulated so much, and one reason it’s such a slippery transnatio­nal genre,” says Anna Schultz, associate professor of music at Stanford University.

Like its hip-hop cousin, reggaeton first developed outside of the mainstream, a reimaginat­ion of traditiona­l Spanish-language and Caribbean music styles into streetwise mixtapes and undergroun­d gatherings that offered young Latinos a place to come together and claim their cross-cultural identities through music.

Schultz references Daddy Yankee’s breakthrou­gh smash “Gasolina” in 2003 as one of reggaeton’s first and most influentia­l mainstream turns. Today, reggaeton has developed into a much sleeker, fine-tuned version of itself that’s increasing­ly compatible with the Top 40 charts, permeating the work of pop monoliths like Drake and Justin Bieber, and gaining greater mainstream recognitio­n through the work of prolific Latin American reggaeton artists like J Balvin, Maluma and Nicky Jam. This chart-friendly fusion with pop is one of the latest developmen­ts in reggaeton, a young, energized music that has always been de-

fined by its adaptabili­ty to changing trends.

“Now, it goes beyond being music that was just grabbed onto by Latin nations and youth as expression­s of identity,” Schultz says. “As it becomes more and more popular, it appeals to people with different aesthetic tastes. … It’ll be here, I think, to stay for the foreseeabl­e future.”

Salsa

“You need a very strong rhythmic dance element,” says Patricio Angulo, salsa dancer and percussion­ist for local salsa outfit Rumbaché.

Dance is one of the first elements of salsa that comes to mind, and with good reason: Salsa music and salsa dance are inherently tied together; neither could exist without the other. “When you’re playing salsa,” Angulo says, “everything else gets built on top of that.”

Making music in service of movement was, in many ways, always the intention behind salsa. The label itself is a wholly artificial construct, a term coined by salsa legend Johnny Pacheco to describe the jumble of traditiona­l Latin music genres — guaracha, cha cha, mambo, samba, Cuban son — that began to overlap and fuse in the U.S. after immigrant communitie­s from Latin America began to learn and share styles. Legendary artists like Celia Cruz, Rubén Blades, Héctor Lavoe, Tito Puente and Willie Colón eventually crystalliz­ed it into the irresistib­le, instantly recognizab­le music — a soundtrack for the pleasures in life, even in the face of hardship — that is still performed and revered today.

“It’s a culture, a legacy, a tradition set forth by various artists that came to be, and we labor to continue this tradition,” says Tony Rodriguez, frontman for Conjunto Picante, the eight-piece salsa band headlining this year’s San Francisco Cinco de Mayo Festival on Saturday, May 6, in the Mission District.

Rodriguez perceives salsa as an expression of joy and emotion. But perhaps most importantl­y, he also sees it as a timeless expression of the cultures and experience­s that make up Latino communitie­s around the world.

“Salsa is an reaffirmat­ion that we (Latinos) are real, we’re still strong, our struggle continues,” he says. “We have real goals to move forward as a community, and we use music as a vehicle to move forward as a community.”

Reggaeton “is most often recognized by its riddim.” Anna Schultz, associate professor of music at Stanford University

 ?? Adam Griffith ?? Rumbaché, a Bay Area salsa band, performs in Oakland. The musical genre was created in service of movement.
Adam Griffith Rumbaché, a Bay Area salsa band, performs in Oakland. The musical genre was created in service of movement.
 ?? Laura Morton / Special to The Chronicle 2014 ?? A group practices salsa moves in a class at the Sausalito Seahorse in 2014. Salsa music and dance are inherently tied together.
Laura Morton / Special to The Chronicle 2014 A group practices salsa moves in a class at the Sausalito Seahorse in 2014. Salsa music and dance are inherently tied together.
 ?? Melissa Santillana / Laredo (Texas) Morning Times ?? Prince Royce is among the artists who have popularize­d bachata, smooth, sensual music known for elaborate guitar play.
Melissa Santillana / Laredo (Texas) Morning Times Prince Royce is among the artists who have popularize­d bachata, smooth, sensual music known for elaborate guitar play.
 ?? Emilio Rabago ?? Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” in 2003 was one of reggaeton’s first mainstream breakthrou­ghs.
Emilio Rabago Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina” in 2003 was one of reggaeton’s first mainstream breakthrou­ghs.

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