A Saxophone Tribute to a Major Puerto Rican Vocalist

courtesy of Braithwaite & Katz Communications

This coming Friday Miel Records will release a new album of a quartet led by saxophonist Miguel Zenón. This is a tribute album entitled Sonero: The Music of Ismael Rivera. The title can probably be traced back to the Cuban producer Ángel Maceda, who owned the Bronx Casino club in New York, who declared Rivera to be sonero mayor (best translated into German as Meistersinger). Because Rivera, known by the nickname Maelo, was not a composer, Zenón’s album consists of quartet realizations of his Maelo’s interpretations of songs composed by others (along with an opening track of a brief sample of Maelo’s singing). The other quartet players are Luis Perdomo (piano), Hans Glawischnig (bass), and Henry Cole (drums). As might be expected, Amazon.com is currently processing pre-orders for this recording.

I must confess that my own appreciation of the many different approaches to Latin jazz is seriously limited. Nevertheless, I was drawn to this album by virtue of several satisfying experiences of Zenón’s performances, both in concert and on recording. As a result, I owe a significant debt to ethnomusicologist César Colón-Montijo, who provided an impressively informative presentation of background material, including song-by-song descriptions, for the accompanying booklet. As a result of following Colón-Montijo’s texts while listening to the ten songs on this album, I gradually acquired an awareness of what made Rivera a sonero mayor and how Zenón translated those vocal qualities into his own saxophone improvisations.

As the quartet leader, Zenón shows a sensitivity to polyphony that one seldom encounters in jazz combos. One aspect of this can be found during Perdomo’s improvisations. Zenón adds a “highlighting” voice, which, on the basis of Colón-Montijo’s notes, seems to reflect a technique that Maelo engaged frequently. On a more contrapuntal scale there are also several engaging moments in which Zenón and Glawischnig seems to be improvising simultaneously without each ever stepping on the other’s figurative toes.

As might be guessed, the heart of most of the song selections lies in the underlying rhythms. Cole clearly understands the rhythmic foundation of each song. Nevertheless, he seldom dominates. He instead seems to play the same sort of role that one encounters in a harpsichordist providing continuo support in pre-Classical music.

To return to confession, however, all of these amount to “first impressions.” This is an album that, due to the abundance of inventiveness, will stand up to multiple listenings. I know, personally, that the mind behind my pair of ears still has much more to digest; and I look forward to returning to this album to become better acquainted with an aspect of jazz history that deserves more of my attention.