Cuchi-frito

Cuchi-frito The Night Latin Cool Was Born  “from the book Mambo City by Bobby Marin” I received a call one day from a gentleman named David who was interested in starting a record label. Intrigued, we agreed to meet for drinks at a club in Manhattan to talk it through. What began as a casual conversation quickly turned into something much bigger. By the end of the night, we had made a decision—we would move forward, form a new label called Latin Cool, and begin the search for great music. The club, owned by the legendary empresario Ralph Mercado, was alive with energy that evening. On stage was maestro Larry Harlow and his Latin Jazz Encounter, delivering a performance that perfectly captured the spirit of the scene. Over dinner, we soaked it all in, mapping out our plans as the music carried the night forward. During a break, I turned to David and asked if he’d like to meet Harlow backstage. He didn’t hesitate. When we got there, Harlow mentioned he had recently recorded a live session at Birdland on Broadway. That immediately caught my attention. I asked him who was going to release the masters—and what he wanted for them. Without missing a beat, he looked at us and said, “You guys.” Just like that. He handed me a copy of the recording along with his asking price. The next day, I gave it a careful listen. It didn’t take long to realize what we had—an expertly produced session featuring some of the finest musicians around. I turned to David and said, “Pay the man.” We drew up a contract, and just like that, Latin Cool had its very first release. Recently, I revisited that recording and pulled out one of its standout tracks, “Fried Neckbones,” originally composed by Willie Bobo. I made a few changes, gave it a new twist, and retitled it “Cuchi-frito.” It’s a fresh take on a classic, and I’m proud to share it again. The session itself featured an incredible lineup: Larry Harlow on piano, Ronnie Cuber on baritone sax and flute, Bobby Sanabria on drums, Mac Gollehon on trumpet, Eddie “Gua Gua” Rivera on bass, and Chembo Corniel on congas—a true gathering of masters. Looking back, it’s amazing how quickly it all came together. One phone call, one meeting, one unforgettable night of music—and just like that, a record label was born. Featured Album Cuchi-Frito Cuchi-Frito Playing Previous Song Play Pause Next Song / Share this:

Fuego Al Barrio

Fuego Al Barrio It was the winter of 1966 when my songwriting partner, Louie Ramirez, and I dropped by the Casalegre record shop in the Bronx to chat with the store’s owner, Al Santiago. Al had recently sold his successful Alegre record label to mobster Morris Levy, owner of Roulette Records. Levy had gained ownership of the Tico Records label years earlier from George Goldner, a great producer but an inveterate gambler who owed Levy a considerable amount of money. With the addition of Alegre, Levy effectively took control of the tropical music market. We learned that Al was in the process of creating a new label, Futura Records. He told us that a number of young musicians from the Bronx were forming their own bands and creating a compelling new sound that young Latinos were eagerly embracing. Al had already signed two of these new bandleaders to Futura—Joe Bataan and a sixteen-year-old trombonist named Willie Colón. Al was in the process of promoting a recently released single by Willie Colon y su Conjunto Dinamico titled “Fuego Al Barrio,” and suggested we check out the bands that evening at the Colgate Gardens in the Bronx, where they would be performing. That night, I picked Louie up in front of his building on Evergreen Avenue and we headed to the Colgate Gardens, where we were immediately struck by the sound of young bandleader Willie Colón and his band. Willie’s performance hit the crowd like a cannon blast from the stage—an uplifting swing that featured a lovable, skinny kid named Héctor Lavoe on vocals. The crowd responded to a sound that reminded them of the music their parents played, but with a fresh, exuberant energy. Young Latinos hungered for music they could relate to and call their own—and Willie Colón and Joe Bataan delivered it. A little later, we were treated to Joe Bataan and his band, who blended Latin rhythms with a splash of R&B, delivered in a doo-wop vocal style. Louie and I looked at each other and realized we were witnessing new genres of Latin music: Latin Boogaloo and Salsa. A couple of days later, Al invited me to join him that evening at the studio where he would be recording a session for Willie’s first album, El Malo. At the recording, I was immediately impressed by Willie’s demeanor and preparation, feeling this kid was on his way to stardom. His singer, Héctor, remained humble and mostly quiet—except when he stepped up to the microphone. After the session, Al offered me a job at Futura as his assistant and I spent many nights sitting beside him in the control booth as he worked on the production of these albums. I was learning from one of the very best. Al, a perfectionist in the studio, spent excessive time recording with Willie and Joe, running up steep costs. It eventually caught up with him, and he found himself in urgent need of money. At one point, the studio even threatened to destroy the master tapes if the bill wasn’t paid. As if that weren’t enough, serious health issues slowed his ability to finish the work. He asked me to approach other labels and try to sell the unfinished masters, but no one was interested in taking a chance on two unknown teenagers. One owner told me that if it were Johnny Colón, they’d consider it—but who the hell was Willie Colón?In the end, a new label called Fania stepped in, paid off the studio, and released what became classic albums—El Malo by Willie Colón and Gypsy Woman by Joe Bataan. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ruhJT61g6R0 Share this: Leave a Reply Cancel reply Logged in as Admin_bobbymarinmusic342. Edit your profile. Log out? Required fields are marked * Message*

Extracto del libro “Mambo City” de Bobby Marin

Extracto del libro “Mambo City” de Bobby Marin Un dia en el anõ 1966 me reuní con Al Santiago en su tienda, Casalegre, en el Bronx, y me invitó a acompañarlo esa noche al estudio donde estaría grabando una sesión para el primer álbum de Willie Colon, “El Malo”. Quedé inmediatamente impresionado por la actitud y la preparación de Willie. Su cantante, Hector Lavoe se sentía humilde ante la experiencia y permaneció mayormente en silencio, excepto cuando estaba siendo grabado. Después de la sesión, Al me ofreció trabajo para trabajar en Futura Records para ayudar en sus producciones y para promover su nuevo lanzamiento en Futura titulado “Fuego Al Barrio” de Willie Colon. Pasé muchas noches sentado junto a Al en la cabina de control mientras trabajaba en la producción de estos álbumes. Estaba aprendiendo de uno de los mejores. Pero desafortunadamente, Al, que buscaba la excelencia en sus grabaciones, pasaba una cantidad desproporcionada de tiempo en el estudio, acumulando costosas horas de facturación mientras grababa a Willie y Joe Bataan. Y eso le pasó factura. De repente, Al se encontró necesitando fondos. Finalmente llegó al punto en que el estudio amenazó con destruir los másters si el pago no se recibía en su totalidad antes de cierta fecha. Mientras tanto, Al enfrentaba serios problemas médicos que obstaculizaban su capacidad para completar su trabajo a tiempo. Finalmente, Al me pidió que me reuniera con otros sellos y vendiera los másters inconclusos. No encontré interesados. Los dueños de los sellos no estaban dispuestos a apostar por un par de recién llegados. Me dijeron que si estuviera vendiendo a Johnny Colon estarían interesados, pero ¿quién demonios era Willie Colon? Eventualmente, un nuevo sello llamado Fania vino al rescate y adquirió las cintas de Willie Colon y Joe Bataan pagando las facturas del estudio. https://youtu.be/ruhJT61g6R0?si=WBoPxiLg0j_i_rHP Share this: Leave a Reply Cancel reply Logged in as Admin_bobbymarinmusic342. Edit your profile. Log out? Required fields are marked * Message*

Excerpt from the book, Mambo City, by Bobby Marin:

Excerpt from the book, Mambo City, by Bobby Marin: One rainy night, while walking down a street in the Bronx, I was captivated by the harmonic sounds of a vocal group pouring out of a building lobby. I walked over and listened to them for a while as they sang some doo-wop tunes. I spoke to them about having them do some work with me and they excitedly agreed. We got together nights and rehearsed some of my songs which I had planned to use on recordings. I named the group “The Latin Chords” and made plans to use them on upcoming boogaloo recordings, 1968 was a busy year for my writing partner Louie Ramirez and I. We set up a meeting with Jerry Masucci of Fania Records with the idea of recording a new Louie Ramirez album, featuring Louie’s salsa arrangements and some of my boogaloo and ballad compositions. Jerry liked the idea but was reluctant to release another ‘Louie Ramirez’ album. Since Louie had been arranging for so many Fania bands, he had no identifying sound of his own. Jerry was a hands-on label director who liked to make his own decisions. He wanted to use Louie’s talents without using his name. He felt Louie’s name appeared on too many Fania albums and he wanted to create a fresh, new image for Louie. Jerry agreed to have us produce the album and had Louie photographed as an Arabian Prince for the cover and call him Ali Baba. So we produced the record for Fania’s Vaya label. Louie’s band did a fantastic job on the salsa tunes, as usual, and we mixed in some of my material, sung by The Latin Chords. One of the Latin Soul tunes on the album was titled “What Can I Do,” with me on lead vocals. Upon release, the tune became a favorite among young lovers, as specified by requests from callers to the Dick Ricardo Sugar radio show. What Can I Do https://www.youtube.com/watch?si=z6oaYI6VoZlDnHAc&v=4tJru2jkZqc&feature=youtu.be Share this: Leave a Reply Cancel reply Logged in as Admin_bobbymarinmusic342. Edit your profile. Log out? Required fields are marked * Message*